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Oi, listen up, you lot! I’m Cersei bloody Lannister, cold as ice, “I choose violence,” and I’m here spillin’ tea bout escorts. Not them sheep I herd, nah, the fancy folk who get paid to strut and charm. Watched *Melancholia* last night—bloody depressing, innit? That Justine lass, all mopey, reminds me of some escorts I’ve seen. “Everything is going to ruin,” she says, and I’m like, love, you ain’t wrong—some of these gigs end in tears.

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First thing I notice? This kid, probably about 10, running around like a headless chicken. He’s got a bright red bucket and spade, and he’s yelling, “MUM! MUM!” like he’s just discovered a treasure chest. I’m thinking, “Dude, chill. It’s just sand.” But hey, kids will be kids, right?

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