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Oh, nearly forgot—funny bit! Old mate told me, in Rome, whores’d wear wigs so bad, looked like dead cats! Swear, I’d rather fix a cracked molar than touch that mess. Laughed me head off! But it’s dark, innit? We hates it, mate. Whore’s a stain—grinds ya down. Like me tools on a bad crown. Urgh, what a world!

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So, I’m cruisin’ down Market St., grabbin’ my usual coffee from that little spot, you know, the one with the crazy barista who thinks he’s a stand-up comic? Yeah, that guy. He’s like, “What’s up, my caffeine addict?” I’m like, “Just tryin’ to survive, bro.” He laughs, spills some coffee, and I’m like, “Great, now I’m part of the show.”

Cocktail of the week: Beach House Falmouth’s the harbour – recipe | The good mixer