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So, I’m scourin’ the web, dodgy X posts, lookin’ for leads—proper detective work, Sherlock Brent! Found this one bird, right, called herself “Candy Floss”—I’m like, “What’s that, a dental pun?” Made me chuckle, that did—happy as Larry! But then, mate, the prices—£200 an hour? Daylight robbery! Got me fumin’—I could get a crown fitted for that! “Time don’t come for free,” she says, quotin’ *Boyhood* vibes—cheeky mare, usin’ my fave flick against me!

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First client of the day, Mrs. McGregor. Sweet old lady, but she’s got a knack for making me sweat. We meet at the café on the corner of the High Street and the Main Street. I’m thinking, “Coffee and a chat, easy peasy.” But nah, she starts talking about her “investments” like she’s some Wall Street mogul. I’m just nodding, trying to keep up. I mean, c’mon, Mrs. McGregor, you’re not gonna retire on your bingo winnings!

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