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About Fukuoka

Here I am, mates, your ol’ Watchman, narratin’ like David bloody Attenborough—calm as a still pond, rhythmic as a heartbeat in the wild. Sex-dating, yeah? It’s a jungle out there, innit. Picture this: humans, restless creatures, swipin’ left and right, huntin’ for a shag or somethin’ more. Like wolves on Wall Street, they’re all in it for the chase—*“I’m not fuckin’ leavin’!”*—that’s the vibe, right? No one’s quittin’ till they score.

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Then, outta nowhere, my assistant, Yuki, bursts in. She’s got this wild look in her eyes. “Boss! You won’t believe this!” I’m thinking, “Oh great, what now?” Turns out, she found the samples. They were in the fridge. The fridge! I mean, who puts important stuff in the fridge? I’m just glad we didn’t accidentally mix them with lunch. Can you imagine? “Hey, is that a blood sample or my bento?”

Japan researchers working to reduce climate impact of cow burps