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About Nantes

What pisses me off? The fakes! Some dude catfishes ya, takes yer dough—D’oh!—and you’re sittin’ there like, “Where’s my date?” Happened to Lenny once—poor sap cried into his beer. But when it works? Woo-hoo! Happy as a pig in mud! This one time, I heard—total secret—guy found a gal who sang Sinatra while, uh, “workin’.” Surprised me so hard I dropped my donut!

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The afternoon rolls in, and it’s quiet. Too quiet. I’m wiping down the bar, thinking about how I need to get outta here. Maybe hit the Charente River later? But then, the door swings open again. It’s a bunch of college kids, and they’re ready to rage.

Accused of abusing 349 children, French surgeon faces trial