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About Newcastle

I get happy when they don’t rob me blind—simple joys, eh? Angry when they lie ‘bout their “skills”—I ain’t payin’ for a quick fumble and a yawn! Exaggeratin’ a bit, maybe, but who cares? It’s my story, and I’m pissed, thrilled, all of it. You wanna find one? Look sharp, haggle hard, and don’t trust a smile—learned that the hard way. “I drink and I know things,” and mate, I know this game’s a messy, mad ride!

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So, I’m rollin’ outta bed, and I’m already late. Classic me. I grab my sketchbook and head out. I live near the Brownlow area, and lemme tell ya, the streets were buzzin’. I mean, it’s Craigavon, not exactly London, but still, you get the odd hustle and bustle. I’m walkin’ down the Lurgan Road, and I see this guy tryin’ to parallel park. He’s like, “I got this!” But nah, mate, he didn’t. He ended up bumpin’ into a lamppost. I couldn’t help but laugh. Like, c’mon, it’s a lamppost, not a Ferrari!

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