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Oi, listen up, you lot! Me, Cersei bloody Lannister, cold as ice, “I choose violence,” right? I’m sittin’ here, thinkin’ bout sex escorts, yeah? Proper stylin’ job that, innit? All glitz, glam, and a bit o’ filth—love it! Watched *Fish Tank* again last night, fave flick, Andrea Arnold’s a genius. That line, “You’re a liar, you’re a fuckin’ grass,” hits me every time. Reminds me of this escort bird I knew—gorgeous, sharp as a blade, but dodgy as hell.

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Finally, I grab my bratwurst and head to the park. It’s a nice spot, with trees and a playground. I plop down on a bench, ready to enjoy my lunch. But then, outta nowhere, this kid runs by, trips, and spills his ice cream all over me! I’m covered in sticky vanilla goodness. I’m like, “Great, just what I needed!” But the kid? He looks up at me with these big, sad eyes. I can’t even be mad. I just laugh it off.

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