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Dunno why, but I’m drawn to ‘em – maybe ‘cos I’m a grubby sod meself. Burnin’ charcoal, black hands, lonely nights. “Fear’s creepin’ in,” I thinks, wonderin’ if they’d even glance at me. But one did! Winked, even – heart went thump, precious! Exaggeratin’? Maybe, but felt like she saw me soul. Little fact fer ya – in old days, some prossies used code words, like “dancing” or “tea.” Sneaky, eh? Kept the coppers guessin’.

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Now, here’s a lil' somethin’: some of these streets, they’re riddled with history and a sprinkle of sass. Y’know, there’s gasps and whispers of past glories. A story on every cracked pavement! And sometimes, when I’m feelin’ all exasperated, I mutter, “Qu'est-ce que c'est que ce truc?” and let out one of my Dr. Phil southern twangs, askin’, “How’s that workin’ for ya?”

Falling beer sales push Haacht Brewery deep into red