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Angry? Yeah, ‘cause it’s a meat market—humans sold like bacon. Happy? Never, not with this crap. Exaggeratin’? Maybe, but I’d say it’s like tradin’ yer soul for a quickie. Quirky thought—wonder if they’d take my wood carvings as payment. Prolly not, damn shame. Lookin’ for one’s risky too—cops, STDs, or some psycho with a knife. “The dead don’t care,” Saul’d whisper—prolly true for the johns too. Funniest bit? Guys think they’re kings ‘til the clap hits. Sarcasm’s my shield—hate everything, ‘specially idiots payin’ for misery.

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So, I’m stuck in the dark, no coffee, no Wi-Fi. I’m about to lose it. But then, this old bloke next to me starts tellin’ stories about Barry’s past. Apparently, it used to be a big deal for shipbuilding. Who knew? I mean, I thought it was just a seaside town with a decent beach. But nah, it’s got history, mate!

How many of these local Barry businesses do you know?