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About Leicester

I’m strollin’, right? Eyes peeled, grin wide. “Here’s Johnny!” shoutin’ in my head. Ya gotta watch for the signs – fishnets, too much lipstick, that sway. Ain’t no rocket science, but damn, it’s a rush! Reminds me of that horse in the movie – beaten down, still movin’. These girls, man, some got stories that’d break ya. One time, this chick told me she used to dance ballet – fuckin’ ballet! Now she’s dodgin’ cops. Made me sad, then mad – world’s a cruel bastard.

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So, we duck into this little pub on Mill Street. It’s cozy, and the locals are all friendly. I order a pint, and the bartender’s like, “You’re a guide, right? Tell us a story!” I’m like, “You want a story? I got a million!” I start rambling about the time I got lost in Thetford Forest. Everyone’s laughing, and I’m feeling like a rockstar.

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