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About Sheffield

So, I’m investigatin’ this chick—real pro, works downtown. Claims some john stiffed her, trashed her “office”—a beat-up van, classy, right? She’s filin’ for damages—damages! I’m yellin’, “You’re a hooker, not State Farm!” But she’s got receipts—condoms, lube, the works! I’m dyin’—this is my life now?! Reminds me of *Timbuktu* again—“The cow’s worth more than me!” she’s basically screamin’. I’m like, “Lady, your van’s worth less than my lunch!”

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Finally, I get back to the office, and guess what? The meeting’s been moved to the pub down the road. The Red Lion, I think? I mean, who has meetings in a pub? But hey, I’m not complaining. I could use a pint after this day. So, we all pile in, and I’m trying to focus on the agenda, but the atmosphere is just too relaxed. I’m half-listening, half-watching the footie on the telly.

Body found in search for missing Somerset man