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About Lyon

So, I’m cruisin’ the streets, lookin’ for some action, right? Westside vibes, dodgy corners, the lot. I see this bird, proper fit, standin’ under a flickerin’ lamp. I roll up, wind down the window, and I’m like, “Oi, love, you workin’?” She gives me this look, bruv, like I’m some mug. “Is it ‘cos I is black?” I shout, half-jokin’, half-pissed. She laughs, says, “Nah, mate, it’s ‘cos you look like a twat in that tracksuit!” Fair play, I rate that sass.

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After that, I decide to grab a coffee at this cute little café on Rue de l’Église. The barista, this cool dude named Marc, is like, “Hey, you’re that musician, right?” I’m like, “Yeah, that’s me!” He pours me a cappuccino that’s basically art in a cup. I take a sip, and it’s like heaven.

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