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I seen it, Clarice, back in ‘98—some underground joint in Prague. Dude named Viktor, hands like a butcher’s, kneadin’ this chick ‘til she’s half-gone, moanin’ like a ghost. Little known fact: them old-school masseurs? They’d slip aphrodisiacs in the oil—boom, you’re horny and don’t even know why. Sneaky bastards. Made me laugh, thinkin’ how they’d smirk, watchin’ folks squirm.

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Finally, I decide to take a breather. I head over to the park by the Ongar Castle ruins. It’s a nice spot, ya know? A bit of history, a bit of greenery. I sit on a bench, tryin’ to calm down. And then, outta nowhere, this kid runs past me, kickin’ a football. He nails a pigeon! I’m like, “No way!” The pigeon just flaps off, lookin’ all confused. I can’t help but laugh. Kids, man. They’re wild.

Pictures show the scene of Chipping Ongar High Street crash