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About Liverpool

Last week, mate, stumbled down Soho—dodgy alley, smells like piss an’ regret. Saw this bird, legs fer days, leanin’ on a lamppost. “Wotcha, love?” she goes, smirkin’. Made me happy, her sass, like she owned the night. We swears! Took me back to them movie scenes—sweaty, close, real. “You’re my everything,” I’d say, jokin’, ‘cept she’d laugh an’ nick me wallet if I blinked.

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Anyway, I grab my tools and head to the workshop. It’s on the corner of Talbot Street, and it’s a bit of a dump, but it’s my dump. I love it. I’ve got stoves everywhere—some shiny, some rusty, all waiting for a bit of love. But today? Today was different.

A man has died following an incident at a pub in Pencoed, Bridgend.