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So, I find this one gal, “Candy,”—original, yeah? Says she’s “open-minded, sensual.” Bet she’s seen more pricks than a dartboard. Text her, all nervous like Jack Twist whisperin’, “This is a one-shot thing.” She’s like, “£100, no kissing.” No kissing? What am I, a bleedin’ leper? Haggling starts—felt like a cowboy barterin’ sheep. Settled on £80, but I’m still fumin’.

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Finally, the bus arrives, and I hop on. I’m sitting next to this lady who’s knitting. She’s super into it, like it’s the Olympics of knitting. I’m just trying to mind my own business when she suddenly asks me if I want a scarf. I’m like, “Nah, I’m good.” But she insists, and I’m thinking, “What am I gonna do with a scarf in summer?” But hey, free stuff, right? So I take it. It’s bright pink. I look ridiculous, but whatever.

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