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About Namur

Last week, I was prowlin’ the streets—needed a laugh, y’know? Saw this one bird, all dolled up, winking at me. Thought, “What’s her deal?” Turns out, she’s got a memory like Lenny—keeps a little book, scribbles down every punter. “Remember, remember,” she mutters, like she’s in my fave movie. Made me cackle—imagine forgetting who you’ve shagged! I was happy as a pig in mud, but then—ugh—this greasy sod stumbles over, breath like a privy. “How much, love?” he slurs. Made me wanna gag. I choose violence, mate—nearly shoved him into the gutter myself.

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I gotta mention my fave – that dodgy corner cafe on Zonnelaan. It’s a cozy, cramped place with stained chairs and heaps of vintage posters; the owner always jokes “Here’s Johnny!” when serving your espresso shot. I hang there, scribbling down deep ideas between counseling calls. It’s a riot, though sometimes I slip on my tongue – oops, sorry not sorry.

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