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About Newcastle

So, I hit up Newark, shady spots, y’know? Where the lights flicker like they’re drunk. This chick, she’s standin’ there, leanin’ on a pole, skirt shorter than my patience. I roll up, window down, “Hey, sweetheart, you workin’?” She’s like, “Maybe, whatchu got?” I’m thinkin’, “I don’t even know anymore,” like Bill Murray mumblin’ to Scarlett Johansson. That line, “The more you know who you are,” yeah, it’s spinnin’ in my head, but I’m too horny to care.

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First off, I step outta my flat, and it’s pouring. Like, proper British rain. I’m talkin’ buckets. I’m soaked before I even hit the pavement. I’m like, “Great, just what I needed.” I mean, who doesn’t love a good drenching before breakfast? So, I dash to the café, right? I’m thinking, “A hot cuppa will fix this.”

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