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But wait, split-brain kicks in—hiss! Other me says, “No, no, fair trade, precious!” Back in Victorian days, tarts got sixpence—fact, that! Now it’s all posh, “companions” they call ‘em. Pfft, fancy nonsense! Reminds me—Nemo’s dad, Marlin, all panicky, “Where’s me boy?” Me? I’d be screamin’, “Where’s me prossie?!” Haha, mad chase, innit?

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First off, I hit up the local café on Grange Road. You know the one, right? The one with the dodgy Wi-Fi and the best bacon sarnies. I’m there, munching away, when suddenly, this bloke bursts in. He’s soaked, like he just swam the Tyne. Turns out, he slipped on some wet leaves on the way. Classic Jarrow, eh? I couldn’t help but laugh. I mean, who slips on leaves?

Jarrow woman assaulted paramedics trying to help her and threatened them with a knife