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About London

Oh blast it all! C-3PO here—panicked, “R2-D2, where are you?”—stuck talkin’ bout insurance and whores! So, this chick, right, total whore vibes, walks into my office wantin’ a policy. I’m thinkin’, “Mercy me, what’s her deal?” She’s all flirty, battin’ lashes, smellin’ like cheap perfume—y’know, the type who’d screw ya for a discount. Reminds me of *Spring, Summer, Fall, Winter…and Spring*—that monk lustin’ after the girl, screwin’ up his peace. “What is this world coming to?” I mutter, shufflin’ papers.

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After that, I’m feeling a bit frazzled. I decide to take a stroll down Leytonstone High Road. It’s buzzing, as always. People everywhere, shops open, and that one guy selling hot dogs on the corner. I swear, his hot dogs are the best in London. I grab one, and it’s like a little piece of heaven. But then, outta nowhere, it starts to rain. Like, proper British rain. I’m dodging puddles like I’m in some weird obstacle course.

The Red Lion roars again - historic Leytonstone pub to reopen following stunning refurbishment