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So, yeah, I’m creepin in shadows, right? Dodgy alleys, stinks o’ piss n’ chips. Lookin for some lass to shag. Ain’t no roses here, just desperation, innit? “Words kill the invisible,” Godard mumbles. Bloody true! She’s invisible till I cough up cash. Then—bam!—she’s real, tits n’ all.

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But then, just as I’m about to leave, I hear this commotion. A bunch of folks are gathered around, and I’m like, “What now?” Turns out, there’s a street performer doin’ some wild tricks. He’s jugglin’ fire and all that jazz. I’m like, “Dude, you’re gonna set yourself on fire!” But he’s just smilin’ and showin’ off. I can’t help but cheer him on. It’s like the whole city’s come alive.