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About Paris

Once, I nearly tripped over this gal—heels like stilts, skirt barely hangin’ on. “Gandalf, you old git,” I thinks, “keep walkin’!” She’s laughin’, callin’ me “greybeard”—cheeky mare! Loved that, tho—proper spirit. But yeah, it’s a hustle, a grind, and half the time I’m like, “Why bother?” Then I remember—some folks just need a chat, others… well, y’know.

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After lunch, I’m back at it. This time, I’m at a park near Rue des Écoles. Kids are playin’, parents are chillin’. I’m thinkin’, “This is nice.” But then, I see a kid throw a rock. And not just any rock—a big one. It flies right past me! I duck like I’m in a war zone. The kid’s mom freaks out, and I’m just standin’ there, tryin’ not to laugh.

Six face trial in Paris for blackmailing Paul Pogba