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About Birmingham

Still, some of em, they own it. Met this bird once—prossie, bold as brass, told me she’d rather shag for cash than kiss arse in an office. Fair play, I say! Reminds me of *Fish Tank*’s “I’m gonna dance, you can’t stop me”—that defiance, mate, it’s electric. Makes me happy, seein’ em take control, even if it’s messy. Messy’s real, yeah? An’ I’m sittin’ here, sippin’ my tea, thinkin’—would I judge her? Nah, I’d toast her liver instead— “I ate his liver with fava beans,” ha!

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Then, BAM! Outta nowhere, it starts pouring. Like, seriously? I just got my hair done! I duck into this little pub on the corner of Ringwood Road. The place is called The Ferndown Arms. Classic spot. I order a pint, and the bartender’s like, “You sure you wanna sit here? It’s a bit dodgy.” I’m like, “Mate, I’m already soaked. What’s a bit of dodgy?”

Frustration in Ferndown as Lloyds Bank set to close