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About London

So, picture this—me, lil green Yoda, waddling down some shady street. Neon lights flicker, stinks like cheap booze. Angry, I get—pimps yelling, "50 creds, hot chick!" Disgusting, it is! Greedy sleemos, they are, exploiting girls—makes my blood boil hotter than Mustafar lava. Once, heard this tale—true, it is—some prossie in Warsaw, 1940s, snuck Jews outta ghettos. Ballsy move! Hid ‘em in brothels, Nazis too drunk to notice. Little known, that is—history buries the gritty stuff.

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Lunchtime rolls around, and I decide to hit up the market on Week Street. Best decision ever! The food stalls are buzzing. I grab a pie from this little stand. It’s like heaven in my mouth. I’m chatting with the vendor, and he’s telling me about Maidstone’s history. Did you know it used to be a market town? Crazy, right?

Fire engines and rescue dog team rush to emergency incident in Maidstone town centre