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Real talk, tho—back in the ‘70s, like in the movie, you’d cruise Sunset, spot ‘em easy. Now? It’s all apps, coded words— “roses” for cash, “party” for somethin’ else. We swears! Caught a thread on X once—girl braggin’ bout makin’ 2k a night, tax-free, while I’m here eatin’ raw fish, pissed off. Little known fact, precious—oldest gig in the world’s got unions now! Some places, they’re legit, got rights—blew my mind, that did. Made me happy, sorta—good for ‘em, stickin’ it to the man.

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After that chaos, I finally get a breather. I step outside for a quick smoke. The view from the shop is nice, ya know? You can see the old church tower, and the cobbled streets are just charming. But then, I see this old fella, Mr. Jenkins, tryin’ to cross the road. He’s shufflin’ along, and I’m thinkin’, “C’mon, mate, hurry up!” But he’s takin’ his sweet time. I swear, I could’ve sliced a whole cow in the time it took him to cross!

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