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About Nijmegen

Last week, right, I’m in a tavern, tankard in hand, scopin’ the room. This bird—red lips, skirts hiked up—winks at me. I’m thinkin’, “Tyrion, you clever bastard, she’s yours.” But nah, she’s got a pimp, uglier than Gregor Clegane, breath like a latrine. Pissed me off—why’s everythin’ gotta be so complicated? “Be quiet and do what I say,” she whispers, like I’m some green boy. Cheeky cow! I’m the Imp, I know tricks she ain’t dreamed of. Paid her double just to shut her gob and get on with it. Felt good, though—coin well spent.

When to visit the Red Light District

But guess what? The market’s packed! I mean, it’s like everyone in town decided to show up today. I’m dodging strollers and old folks with their shopping carts. I finally get to the veggie stand, and this lady in front of me is taking her sweet time. I’m like, “C’mon, lady! I got art to create!”

"Godmother" of Amsterdam arrested in international investigation