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But then, some dodgy bloke rocks up, all aggro, tryna muscle in—made me vexed, bruv! I’m like, “Mate, chill, I ain’t here for beef!” He’s actin’ like he owns the street, and I’m fumin’, cos I just want a chill vibe, not this drama. “Is it ’cos I is black?” I shout, half-jokin’, half-pissed, and he legs it—coward! Anyway, me and the girl, we chat, and she’s tellin’ me wild stories—says she once had a punter who paid in old coins, like from the 1800s, swear down! I’m gobsmacked, thinkin’, “What past life was that geezer from?”

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This city, man, is like a scene-stealer. Every alley tells its own dirty little secret. And I’m here for it! One minute you’re at a classy cocktail bar by the river, next, you’re in a sordid conversation in a thrift-store café. It’s like “Beneath the pale blue eyes” but in a way that's weirdly real.

Inquiry set for N.B. man facing murder charges in Truro