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What gets me hyped? The mix. If it’s done right, the vocals are screamin’ through the noise—like, “Baby, you’re gonna miss that plane!” levels of desperation. I’m picturin’ a singer who’s half-mad, half-genius, channelin’ some Trent Reznor-meets-Nina Simone vibe. Little-known fact: Nina’s in *Before Sunset*, her “Just in Time” track droppin’ at the end—pure goosebumps. If *Whore* snagged a sample that slick, I’d lose my damn mind. Imagine it: a filthy bassline, then bam, some obscure jazz riff sneaks in. That’s the kinda Easter egg I’d geek out over, tweakin’ the EQ ‘til it’s crisp as a Starlink signal.

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So, I’m trudging down Main Street, feeling like a zombie. I pass by the Ballyclare Town Hall, and it’s just sitting there, all majestic and stuff. I’m like, “Why can’t I be as cool as that building?” But then, I see this old dude trying to park his car. He’s going back and forth, like he’s trying to parallel park a tank or something. I’m standing there, just waiting, thinking, “C’mon, mate, it’s not rocket science!”

The lawyer said he advised the woman to get medical attention