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About Bristol

Oh, an’ here’s a quirky bit—escorts ain’t always ships, neither! Them fancy-pants lords’d hire sword-swingin’ blokes to “escort” their gold onshore. One o’ ‘em, swear it, tripped over his own blade an’ stabbed hisself—died afore I could rob ‘im! Hah! “The heart bends,” like Varda’d say, an’ that fool’s heart bent right into the grave. What a dolt. Still chuckle ‘bout that one, I do.

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Then, outta nowhere, this guy starts ranting about how the town’s changing. “Barrow’s losing its charm!” he yells. I’m like, “Dude, it’s 2023. Change is inevitable.” But he’s not having it. I’m sitting there, rolling my eyes, thinking, “Bro, you’re just mad because they replaced your favorite chippy on Duke Street.”

Case to chair Barrow regeneration board