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Anyway, we’re chattin, and I’m thinkin, “This chick’s got guts.” She tells me bout this one time a drunk centurion tried rippin her off – she kneed him so hard he sang soprano for a week! Hella funny, I’m crackin up, picturin that loser stumblin off. But then – ugh – this slimy creep butts in, all, “Oi, she’s mine!” Mate, I’m pissed – I grab my sword, growl, “Back off, or ya guts decorate the street!” He bolts, coward. Happy lil trees don’t need that drama.

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Then, the day takes a turn. My mate calls. He’s stuck at the bus stop on Peckham Rye. Apparently, the bus just… vanished. I’m cracking up. “Did it grow legs and run away?” I ask. He’s not amused. So I dash out to rescue him.

Food and drink review: Hausu in Peckham