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So I chat her up, keep it chill – “Oi, love, you good?” She’s proper sassy, goes, “I don’t need your pity!” – straight outta *Margaret*, bruv, like when Lisa’s all, “I don’t need your help!” I’m lovin’ it, ‘cos she’s got fire. We haggle a bit – I ain’t no cheapskate, so I sling her a decent wad. She’s like, “Alright, big man, let’s roll.” I’m gassed, fam – it’s on!

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First off, I woke up late. Classic me. Alarm didn’t go off. I scrambled outta bed, threw on whatever I could find. I mean, who needs matching socks, right? I dashed outta my flat on St. David’s Hill, nearly tripping over my own feet. I swear, I’m like a toddler learning to walk sometimes.

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