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About Lyon

So we’re hagglin’, yeah, and she’s all, “Fifteen now, inflation, mate!” I’m like, “Fuck off, inflation? You’re a prossie, not a bleedin’ banker!” Surprised me, that did – cheeky cow! Mumbled incoherence, “Sharon!” – she’d be screamin’ at me now, “Ozzy, you daft git!” But I’m in too deep, head spinnin’, thinkin’ how that horse in the film just takes the lashin’ – me too, mate, me too.

Not Wanted on the Rue Saint-Denis

I took a bath at the saint Denis hotel/restaurant and as I stepped out there was this lady standing outside who said "you wanna have some fun" and.

Then, outta nowhere, it starts pouring. I mean, like, torrential downpour. I’m soaked in seconds. I duck into a little boutique, and the owner, this sweet old lady, offers me a towel. I’m like, “Thanks, but I’m not a wet dog!” She just chuckles and hands me a croissant. Best croissant ever, by the way. Flaky, buttery goodness.

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