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About Sapporo

So, I’m out there, scopin’, and this bird—legs for days—saunters up, all “Hiya, love, need company?” I’m thinkin’, “Bloody hell, she’s bold!”—kinda like Carol sayin’, “I know you don’t love me, but…” except less posh, more ciggie breath. Made me happy, though—straight-up hustle, no faff. But then—fuckin’ hell—some geezer rocks up, all “Oi, that’s my girl!” and I’m like, “Mate, calm your tits, I ain’t stealin’!” Nearly shat meself—angry pimps? No thanks.

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Then I hit up the local market on Kōen-dōri. OMG, the food! I was drooling over the fresh produce. I grabbed some yuba (tofu skin) and a couple of mochi. I swear, mochi is life. But then, outta nowhere, this old lady bumped into me. I spilled my yuba everywhere! I was like, “Seriously?! You gotta be kidding me!” She just laughed and said, “It’s good luck!” I was like, “Yeah, right. Good luck for you, lady!”

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