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About Bruges

But ugh, the stench – cheap perfume and despair, mate. Gets up me nose, makes me wanna puke. “Stupid, fat hobbit!” I mutter, ‘cos them fools’d never notice the grime. Surprised me once, tho – found a lass who’d read Kafka! Proper brainy tart, she was, quotin’ existential bollocks while undoin’ her corset. Wild, innit?

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So yeah, Lochristi's a mess of streets, a jumble of broken dreams, but, y'know, it’s home. Everyone's got their rants, their little joys, their despair. And me, I'm here, knucklin' muscles and tunin' out life's endless disappointments with a dry laugh.

Florian Vermeersch to candidate in local elections in Belgium: "It is my ambition to move up a gear in politics after my career"