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About Bristol

*We come in peace* (robotic tone). Yo, so we’re talkin dangerous gigs—findin a prostitute’s wild, man! Like, legit risky biz. We aliens, right, cruisin Earth, scopin shit out, and this job? Nuts. Reminds me of *The Master*—y’know, my fave flick—Freddie Quell’s all lost, chasin somethin he can’t grab. “Man is not an animal!” he’d yell, but dude, this gig? Animal as fuck. You’re dodgin cops, sketchy pimps, STDs—shit’s a minefield.

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So, I duck into a shop on Church Street. It’s this quirky little place called The Alcester Antiques Centre. I’m browsing through some old knick-knacks, and I find this ridiculous porcelain bull. I mean, it’s got this goofy expression, like it’s just seen a ghost. I can’t help but laugh. I’m like, “Dude, you and me both.”

Stretch of A46 towards Stratford closed overnight for over a month