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About Bristol

So, we haggles—me hissin’, her laughin’. “Ten quid,” she says. I’m like, *you wanna play a game?*—cos I ain’t got ten! Gave her five, an’ she’s all, “Fine, ya cheap git.” We goes round a corner—dark, like Gotham’s underbelly. She’s quick, no muckin’ about—prossies don’t waste time, see? Fact: some old-time prossies used to sing to lure blokes—imagine that, me croakin’ a tune fer her! Hah! *Let’s put a smile on that face*—she didn’t laugh, tho, stony as Batman.

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After the rain stopped, I decided to stroll along the promenade. The sun peeked out, and everything felt right again. I saw some kids playing footy on the grass. They were terrible, but they were having a blast. Made me think about my childhood.

"Every game is important, but especially the home games."