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About Liverpool

Yo, motherfucker, lemme tell ya bout escort! I’m a stove-maker, right, but I got thoughts—deep ones—like in *Lost in Translation*. That flick, man, it’s quiet but loud as fuck in my soul. “I just feel so alone,” Charlotte says, and escort? Shit, it’s like that—alone but surrounded. Ain’t that a trip? Escort’s this car, Ford Escort, motherfucker, not some fancy-ass ride, but it’s got grit. Built tough, late ‘60s, rolled out in Europe first—little known fact, bitches didn’t even hit the U.S. ‘til later. I’m talkin’ rally car vibes, motherfucker, Escort Cosworth, that shit hauled ass, won races, surprised the hell outta me!

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As the night rolls in, I’m feelin’ a bit tired. I decide to head back. But on my way, I pass by the Cleethorpes Leisure Centre. There’s a sign for a karaoke night. I’m tempted, but then I remember my singing voice. Let’s just say it’s not winning any awards.

Calls to end delays on Cleethorpes-London train service