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About Liverpool

Dunno, mate, it’s half genius, half bollocks. You’re lyin’ there, vulnerable, hopin’ for magic fingers, and bam—some chit-chatty wench ruins it. “Where do you work?” Shut it, I’m tryna relax! Little fact: in Japan, they’ve got “soaplands”—bath, rub, wink-wink—all legal-like. Surprised me—thought they were prim! Exaggeratin’? Maybe, but I’d wager half these joints are fronts for somethin’ shadier. “What do I want?” David asks in *A.I.*—mate, not this overpriced backrub with a side of guilt!

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So, I finally set up shop near the old railway station. It’s a bit quiet, but I’m ready to work. I start sharpening this old knife for a bloke named Dave. He’s a fisherman, and he’s got stories for days. He’s tellin’ me about the time he caught a massive cod off the coast of Maryport. I’m like, “No way, mate! You sure it wasn’t just a boot?” We both laugh, and it’s good vibes.

Cadets hailed an 'absolute Godsend' for young people in town following open evening