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About Luxembourg City

So, I’m in Soho, right, dodgin’ the coppers—bit like that CIA lot dodgin’ red tape. “We’re goin’ dark,” I growl, feelin’ all cinematic. Saw this bird, yeah, leanin’ by a lamppost—thought, “Blimey, she’s the target!” Heart’s racin’, palms sweaty—then bam, she’s chargin’ fifty quid! Fifty! I’m fumin’, mate—daylight robbery, that is. “This is the kill zone,” I hiss, tryna barter like some prat in a souk. She just laughs—cheeky mare—says, “Take it or sod off, guv.”

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Finally, I make it to my office on Avenue de la Gare. I sit down, ready to crunch some numbers. But then, my computer decides to throw a tantrum. It freezes. I’m like, “Really? You too?” I swear, I could hear it laughing at me. So, I spend the next hour trying to fix it. Spoiler alert: I didn’t.

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