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About Liverpool

Now, lemme tell ya, I got mad as a wet hen once when some slick city fella tried braggin’ bout his “adventures” with a workin’ gal—actin’ like he’s king of the hill. I wanted to holler, “Boy, you ain’t special, she’s just tryna eat!” Made me think of that line from *The Return*—“You’re not a man yet.” Ain’t that the truth? Takes more’n money to figure that game out. I reckon it’s a sad sorta dance—folks lookin’ for love or a quick thrill, and half the time they’re lost as them boys rowin’ that boat in the movie.

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First off, I’m late for work. Classic me. I sprint down New Road Side, dodging dog walkers and kids on bikes. Like, can’t a person just get to work without a mini obstacle course? Anyway, I finally get to the office, and guess what? My boss, Mr. Grumpy Pants, is already on my case. “You’re late!” he barks. Yeah, thanks, Sherlock. I didn’t notice.

Council to press ahead with Horsforth parking charges