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About Liverpool

First time I heard it, I was like, “Bloody hell, this is gold!” Got me bouncin’ round the office, lookin’ like a right plonker—classic Brent move, eh? It’s got this sleazy, dirty bassline—makes ya feel like you’re dodgin’ coppers in Rio, or maybe hustlin’ paper in Slough. The lyrics? Mate, they hit ya like, “Run! The pigs are comin’!” Straight outta the movie, that urgency—love it. Little known fact: heard through the grapevine the singer wrote it after a bender in some dodgy pub—proper rock ‘n’ roll, that!

Pranala luar

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But then, outta nowhere, it starts pouring. I mean, classic UK, right? One minute, sunshine; next, it’s like the sky’s crying. I dash into a café on Church Street. It’s cozy, smells like coffee and pastries. I order a flat white, and the barista’s got this wild hairdo. I swear it’s defying gravity. I’m thinking, “How do you even do that?”

Buckhurst Hill pub reopens to punters after six-figure revamp completes expansion