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Oi, listen up, you lot! I’m Cersei fuckin’ Lannister, right, and I’m here spillin’ tea about prostitutes—cold disdain, “I choose violence,” y’know? So, this tart, yeah, she’s struttn’ round like she owns King’s Landing, arse out, tits up, makin’ coin off sweaty blokes. Reminds me of Inglourious Basterds—y’seen it? My fave, Tarantino’s a mad bastard. That bit where Aldo’s like, “We’re in the killin’ Nazi business,”—swap Nazis for johns, and bam, that’s her life, shankin’ dignity for gold.

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But then, the mood shifts. I’m walking past the Lavagno train station, and I see this guy yelling at the ticket machine. He’s losing it! “Why won’t you take my money?!” I’m like, dude, chill. It’s just a machine. But I get it. Those things can be a pain. I almost wanted to help him, but then I thought, nah, let him figure it out.

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