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About Nice

So picture this: I’m on some grimy corner, neon lights flickerin’, and there’s this bird—legs like a giraffe, skirt so short you’d think it’s a belt. I’m like, “Blimey, you’re a walkin’ health hazard!” She’d probably clock me one, but I’d deserve it. Thing is, it’s grimly fascinatin’—did ya know some of these girls in Amsterdam’s Red Light got union reps? Yeah, proper workers’ rights for shaggin’! Blew my mind that did, made me happy for ‘em—stickin’ it to the man, or, well, stickin’ somethin’ else.

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Then, there's the Old Town. Those old stone houses and cobblestoned lanes, like Rue Gambetta and Rue Gambetta's side streets – I swear they whisper ancient secrets if you listen up close enough. I once stayed for an impromptu midnight picnic near the hilltop, atop the old castle ruins (the Château Grimaldi, if memory serves). I was like, OMG, the stars, the vibe – like a movie scene! I got pretty chuffed, almost burst with happyness, ya know?

French MPs unanimously vote to publish Yellow Vests' 2019 public grievance log books