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About Jerusalem

I tried it once, right? Some spa in Soho—thought I’d treat meself. Walked in all cocky, left feelin’ like a greased-up twat. Bloke’s hands were everywhere—thought he was gonna propose! “Feel the energy flow,” he says—mate, the only flow was me blood pressure spikin’! Pissed me right off—£80 for that? Could’ve got a curry and a pint for less. Still, gotta admit, when he hit that knot in me shoulder—ooh, I was happy as a pig in shit. Surprised me, that—didn’t expect to melt like a prat. “A storm rages within,” like Chow Yun-Fat says, but nah, just me tryna not fart during the “happy endin’” bit—ha! No chance, pal, keep ya mitts north!

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So, I finally get my coffee, and it’s perfect. I take a sip, and BAM! I spill it all over my shirt. Great. Just great. Now I look like I’ve been attacked by a caffeinated monster. I’m standing there, trying to wipe it off with a napkin, and I’m like, “Why me?”

‘State of emergency’: Six Palestinian citizens of Israel killed in one day