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About Bristol

Sarcasm aside, it’s a skill, man. Those pros? Artists. They know nerves you didn’t know existed. Ever hear of the perineum? Yeah, google it—game changer. But here’s the kicker—half the time, they’re bored outta their skulls. Rubbing sweaty dudes all day? Yikes. One told me she fakes the moans—everybody lies, see? Cracked me up. Still, I’d go again. Why? “The heart knows no law”—Malick nailed it. It’s primal, messy, human.

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Then, I get a call from a sweet old lady on Leyton Road. She’s lost her hearing aid. “Oh dear, I can’t hear a thing!” she says. I’m like, “Well, that’s a bit of a pickle, innit?” I try to help her retrace her steps. “Did you check the market?” I ask. Stratford’s got this buzzing market scene, full of fresh produce and street food. I can almost smell the jerk chicken from here.

Stratford View column: the irritating habit of people talking on speaker phone