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About Amsterdam

So, last week, I’m out, half-pissed, lookin’ for a bit of company. Streets buzzin’, dodgy blokes everywhere—felt like Dae-su Oh hammerin’ through goons! We shall never surrender to loneliness, lads! Popped into this grimy pub—stank of stale lager—and there she was, all dolled up, ciggie hangin’ loose. “Live for nothing, or die for somethin’,” she says, winkin’. I’m like, cor blimey, she’s nicked that from somewhere, ain’t she?

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Then, outta nowhere, it starts pouring. I mean, like, torrential downpour. We scramble for cover under this old shed on the edge of the harbor. I’m soaked, my hair’s a mess, and I’m laughing like a maniac. “This is just perfect!” I shout. Jan’s trying to shield his pie with his jacket. Classic!

Held