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About San Jose

Saw this one bird, legs like a racehorse, leanin on a lamppost. “Who are you, so still?” – straight outta the movie, I swear! Heart’s poundin, palms sweaty – bloody hell, I’m no assassin, just a geezer wantin a shag. Asked her rate, she says 50 quid. Fifty bleedin quid?! We shall fight the tyranny of overpriced tail! Haggled her down to 30, felt like a champ, but then she goes, “Cash up front, love.” Fair enough, says I, handin over me crumpled notes.