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About London

So, picture this—I’m cruisin’, late night, down some gritty street. Not sayin’ where, c’mon, I ain’t that dumb. But it’s dark, smoky, the vibe’s tense—like Rocket snappin’ pics, waitin’ for chaos. I’m thinkin’, “Joe, what’re ya doin’, man?” Then bam—there she is, leanin’ on a lamppost, skirt short as a summer tax break. I’m like, whoa, this ain’t no Hollywood movie, folks! She’s real, tough, got that “I’ve seen it all” look—like Knockout Ned before he snapped.

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Then, outta nowhere, this kid runs up to me. He’s got a face full of chocolate. I’m like, “What happened to you?” He grins and says, “I just had the best ice cream ever!” I’m like, “Where?” He points to the corner of the street, and I’m like, “I need to check that out!”

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