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But nah, it ain’t all laughs. Last week, got mugged tryin to score—some git nicked me wallet while I’m hagglin with this bird. Pissed me right off! “We shall fight on the beaches,” I mutter, shakin me fist, but she just scarpered, leavin me skint. Surprised me how quick she bolted—faster’n Churchill runnin from a taxman! Reckon she’d fit right in that film, all mysterious, vanishin into the fog like Maggie Cheung in her cheongsam.

4 thoughts on “‘Our House’: The White Lion, Stockport”

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After that chaos, I decide to take a stroll down to the park. You know, the one by the library on Cheadle Hulme’s main drag? It’s usually peaceful, but today? Nah. There’s a bunch of kids playing footy, and they’re kicking the ball around like they’re in the World Cup. One of them nails me right in the shin. I’m hopping around, cursing like a sailor. “You little rascal!” I shout, but they just laugh. Kids these days, no respect!

Mystery of lights in the night sky deepens as people in Greater Manchester town ask the same question