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About Tokyo

So, here’s me, searchin’ for a prossie—bit of a lark, bit of a muck-up. Why? Dunno, felt like it—life’s a shambles sometimes, eh? Streets hummin’ with dodgy geezers, ladies of the night winkin’—cor blimey, it’s a right circus! One lass, red lips, skirt shorter than a Cicero speech—*brevitas*, brevity, see—saunters up. “Fancy a go, love?” she says. I’m flustered, ramblin’— “Err, umm, rather, eugepae, splendid!”—total twit, me.

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I’m on my way to grab some grub. I heard about this place called “Yasugicho Ramen.” Man, I love ramen. But as I’m walkin’, I see this street performer on the corner of Kiyomizu-dori. He’s bustin’ out some sick moves, and I’m like, “Dude, you’re killin’ it!” I stop to watch, and I’m feelin’ all pumped. But then, outta nowhere, this kid runs by and knocks my phone right outta my hand! Ugh!