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About Almere

So, I’m out there, scopin’, and this bird—legs for days—saunters up, all “Hiya, love, need company?” I’m thinkin’, “Bloody hell, she’s bold!”—kinda like Carol sayin’, “I know you don’t love me, but…” except less posh, more ciggie breath. Made me happy, though—straight-up hustle, no faff. But then—fuckin’ hell—some geezer rocks up, all “Oi, that’s my girl!” and I’m like, “Mate, calm your tits, I ain’t stealin’!” Nearly shat meself—angry pimps? No thanks.

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But then, just when I think it can’t get crazier, my phone buzzes. It’s my buddy, Jan, texting me about a surprise party for my birthday later. I’m like, “Dude, my bday’s not for another month!” But he’s all, “Yeah, but we’re in Naaldwijk, and we do things differently here!”

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