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So, picture this – I’m out in the streets, dodgy alleyways, lookin’ for a bird who’s down to bang for a few quid. It ain’t glam, bruv, it’s gritty as fuck. I’m like, “Is it ‘cos I is black?” when the coppers start eyein’ me up – nah, mate, it’s just the game, innit! Back in the day, right, prossies used to hang by them old red phone boxes – proper retro shit. Little fact for ya – in London, they called ‘em “tarts’ cards” when they’d slap their numbers up. Ain’t no one know that no more, ‘cos apps fucked it all up, bruv.

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I remember that rainy day… err, so totally mad day – skies cry, emotions louder. I met this couple who argued about nothing and everything, and ya know, it reminded me of life’s wild collage. Aww, bittersweet, ya know? So, like the film said, “We are the fragile keepers of desire,” echoing in the drizzling gloom.

Man dies after car smashes into tree at Warradale