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About London

Here’s a mad one for ya – heard tell of a prossie in Amsterdam once charged a bloke in tulips! True story, mate, swear on me nan’s grave. Got me thinkin – what’s the weirdest thing I’d pay with? Socks? A kebab? Laughed me arse off picturin that. Anyway, this lass, she’s all business, no chit-chat. “Time is short, act quickly” – movie line again, fit perfect. We duck into this dodgy flat, smells like damp and despair. She’s quick, efficient – bit like an assassin herself, in and out, job done.

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I gotta say, walking through the narrow lanes near Tollgate Hill is like starin’ into a hidden film. The streets twist with history, scandal and cheeky tales. And don't even start on the pubs – oozing "la dolce vita", I mean, it's like a scene from Sorrentino's masterpiece. People here are a mix of straightforward and mysterious. One time, sitting in a cozy corner of The White Hart Inn, I ended up in a deep chat about hidden desires. Craziness!

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