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About Martin

She’d swagger in, all dolled up, orderin’ a gin. “How happy is the blameless vestal’s lot,” I’d mutter, quotin’ the film, all posh-like. She’d roll her eyes, “Boris, you prat, gimme a drink!” Loved that sass, got me proper chuffed. But, cor blimey, some punters—absolute rotters—treated her like muck. Made me blood boil, it did. Once saw this toff, all la-di-da, hagglin’ her down to a fiver. A fiver! Wanted to clock him, I did. “Efface him from your mind,” I told her, all dramatic, like Joel in the movie. She just smirked, “He’s already gone, love.”

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After that wild show, I decide to chill by the Poprad River. It’s so peaceful there. I sit on a bench, munching on my cheese, feeling all zen. But then, this group of kids runs by, playing tag, and one of them trips and falls right in front of me. I’m like, “Oh no!” But he just gets up, laughs it off, and keeps running. Kids are tough, man.

Eastern Europe Is Richer Than Ever — And More Divided