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Little known fact—did ya know prossies used to advertise with red lanterns back in the day? Proper history, that! So I tell him, “Look for the glow, mate, red lights, dodgy alleys—classic.” He’s noddin’, like I’m some guru. Makes me happy, sorta—feelin’ like a spy givin’ intel. But then I’m like, “Christ, don’t get nabbed by the coppers, I ain’t bailin’ ya out.” Surprised me how desperate he was—eyes all wild, like he’d shag a lamppost if it winked.

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Then, outta nowhere, the door swings open. It’s Mrs. Jenkins from down the road. She’s got her poodle, Mr. Fluffykins, in tow. I swear, that dog’s got more attitude than half the blokes I know. She’s all, “Can you give him a trim too?” I’m like, “Sure, but I ain’t a dog groomer!” But hey, it’s Gravesend, so why not?

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