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About Frankfurt

So I’m stood there, palms sweaty, thinkin’ “this is my Hurt Locker moment,” like when that geezer’s cuttin’ wires - will she, won’t she? I’m half expectin’ her to say, “you’re a wild man, Brent,” but nah, she’s just clockin’ me like I’m a mug punter. Which, let’s be real, I am! Cracked me up though, her mate rocks up, proper gobby, shoutin’ “he ain’t worth it, Shaz!” and I’m like, “oi, I’m a bleedin’ legend!” Total stitch-up, had me in bits.

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I love wandering around on Hauptstraße. You never know what you'll find. Random little shops, street art you’d swear were cues from the zodiac killer’s cryptic signs, and hidden bars that spill stories deep into the night. One time, I found a quirky little dating joint tucked between a musty pub and a deli. Yeah, it set my creative circuits humming like fireworks.

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