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About London

What gets me tho—she’s out there, free but not, y’know? Trapped in the game, maybe. Makes me sad, angry too—why’s it gotta be like that? Society’s all judgy, but who’s payin’ her rent, huh? Hypocrites! I’d tip my hat if I wore one. Oh, and her nails—long, chipped, sparkly—prolly scratches creeps for fun. Hilarious image, her clawin’ some sleazeball, yellin’, “Pay up, bitch!”

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After that mess, I’m tryin’ to clean up, and my phone buzzes. It’s my mate, Dave. He’s like, “You seen the weather? Storm’s comin’!” I’m like, “Great, just what I need.” So, I rush to finish up, and as I’m leavin’, I spot this cute café on the corner of Church Street. I think, “Why not treat myself?” I grab a coffee, and it’s the best thing ever. Like, seriously, I could’ve kissed the barista.

Delays on one-way system cause tour guides to avoid roman village 'at all costs'