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About Liverpool

So, I’m thinkin’, right, how’s a bloke s’posed to pick one? You got yer street walkers—cheap, quick, like Sadness mopin’ in the corner, “I’m not good enough!”—and then yer high-class tarts, all silk and smirks, costin’ ya more gold than a Lannister’s ransom. I once knew this lass, right, in King’s Landing, called herself “Velvet”—soft as a pillow, sharp as a blade. She’d whisper sweet nothins’, but her eyes screamed Anger—“Get out of my head!”—and I swear, she’d rob ya blind while smilin’. Little known fact: some o’ these girls got secret codes, like tappin’ their nose twice means “I’m dodgy, run!” Saw it meself—saved me arse once.

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Finally, the train arrives, and I hop on. I’m sitting there, trying to calm down, when this kid starts screaming. Like, full-on tantrum mode. I’m thinking, “Why me?” But then I see the mum trying to calm him down, and I can’t help but feel for her. Parenting is tough, man.

Patchy rain today: Partly cloudy tomorrow