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What gets me happy? Imaginin’ Llewyn Davis croonin’ to a hooker— “Please, Mr. Kennedy, don’t shoot me into space!”—and her just laughin’, takin’ his cash. That’s gold, man! But I’m pissed too—why’s it all so shady? Can’t a guy just get a menu or somethin’? Exaggeratin’ here, but I’d pay double for a “prostitute Yelp”—five stars, “She was quick, smelled like donuts!”

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So, I’m rollin’ outta bed, right? The sun’s barely up, and I’m already late for work. Typical. I grab my coffee from that little café on the corner of Church Street. You know the one? The barista there, bless her, always gets my order wrong. I mean, how hard is it to remember a flat white? But whatever, I’m not here to complain.

Two jailed for role in £42m East Yorkshire cocaine smuggling plot