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About Munich

But then you get the creeps, don’t ya? The punters—sweaty, baldin’ tossers who reckon they’re God’s gift. “I’m a real man,” they’d slur, like in the film—*“I’m a gangster, a free man!”*—but nah, mate, you’re just a sad sack with a fiver. Makes me angry, that does, the entitlement. I’d wanna scream, “Oi, you wanker, she’s not your bloody therapist!” Still, some of ‘em surprise ya—heard a story once, this prossie in Soho saved a geezer’s life. He was chokin’ on a kebab, she Heimliched him—hero stuff! Didn’t expect that, did I? Nearly pissed myself laughin’ thinkin’ bout it.

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BREWING UP GENDER PARITY: THE QUEST FOR BEERQUALITY REBECCA WHYMAN • JUNE 13, Women are markedly underrepresented in craft beer. This is.

Ah, and let’s not forget the rivers. The murmur of Kleinfluss flows past the worn-out brick of Altes Bahnhofsgasse. I swear the ripples sing, "Lalala, madness is beauty," (cue a line from my fav movie, Syndromes and a Century, if ya catch my drift!) The water, the laughter, the pulses—the whole damn mosaic.

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