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About Leicester

So, I’m down the docks, yeah, salty air hittin me lungs, thinkin – where’s she at? Prossies round here, they’re ghosts, mate. Slip through yer fingers like wet fish. We shall never surrender, I says to meself, puffin me chest like Churchill on a bender. Found one once, right, near the old pier – Ruby, they called her. Cheeky lass, red lips, eyes sharp as a gutting knife. Little known fact – she’d hum sea shanties while workin, swear down! Made me laugh, that did – a prossie with a tune? Fancied meself Theo Faron for a sec, savin the world one shag at a time.

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So, I go outside to check it out, and there’s a crowd gatherin’. Turns out, the pigeon’s fine, just a bit dazed. But then, this guy starts tellin’ everyone how he once saved a pigeon from a cat. I’m thinkin’, “Mate, that’s not a superpower.”

Lanarkshire firms recognised with Ministry of Defence awards