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I spot her, thou see—red lips like a gash’d rose, legs long as a tax form. “What price thy company, wench?” I blurt, all Shakespearean, thinkin’ I’m clever. She laughs—bloody hell, mate, she laughs! “Twenty quid, ya posh twat,” she says, and I’m proper gobsmacked. Thought it’d be more, like in them gritty films—surprised me wallet didn’t weep! “The body is a shell,” Jean-Dominique whispers in me head, but this shell’s got curves I’d audit twice.

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Now, get this, some hidden gems: Old Dockside Alley near the river. A less trodden path, but a real secret nook for peeps in the know. I had a memory there – a rainy night, there, and the neon reflections on wet pavement gave me mad feels. It was one of those nights, like in Toni Erdmann, when life’s multi-layered edginess just hit ya.

Greendale native runs six marathons in six days to raise awareness for multiple sclerosis