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About Birmingham

Oh, and get this—Victorian England, whores had this secret code. They’d wear red ribbons in their hair, signalin’ “I’m open for biz.” Subtle, shady, genius! Bet Marta rocked that look, too. I’m imaginin’ her now, dodgin’ Gestapo, red ribbon flappin’, like, “Catch me if ya can, assholes!” Hilarious, but also—damn, that’s ballsy. Makes me wanna high-five her across time.

So, I’m rushing down the street, dodging puddles like I’m in some sort of obstacle course. You know how it is in Basford—rain one minute, sun the next. I’m on my way to meet Mrs. Thompson on Victoria Road. She’s a sweet old lady, but man, she can be a handful.

Curry house's jibe at neighbours as row over smell and rats hots up