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But—oh, mate—it pisses me off somethin’ fierce! The way folks sneer, call em dirty, like they ain’t human. Gets my blood boilin’—who’s the real filth, eh? The toff in his manor or the gal grindin’ to eat? “What am I doing here?”—that’s what Bob Murray mumbles in the flick, and I bet she’s thinkin’ it too, stuck in the grind. Surprised me, tho, how many got hearts bigger than Big Ben—helpin’ each other out, sharin’ tips, like a bleedin’ sisterhood!

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But then, I see this group of teens, and they’re up to no good. I can feel my blood boilin’. They’re spray-painting some wall. I march over, all tough guy. “Hey! What do you think you’re doin’?” They freeze, lookin’ like deer in headlights. One of ‘em, a kid named Samir, goes, “We’re just expressin’ ourselves!” I’m like, “Express yourself somewhere else, man!”

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