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About Cologne

Oi, thou motley crew o’ listeners! Here’s me, thy prison warden, spoutin’ off ‘bout a prostitute I’ve seen too much of. She’s a wench o’ the night, roamin’ free ‘fore I locked her arse up. A rose by any name, eh? But this one’s thorns be sharp as daggers! “The Return” – that flick’s my jam, all moody and deep, like her eyes when she’s schemin’. “Thou hast returned,” I’d mutter, watchin’ her strut back to the cellblock, like them lads in the film comin’ home to nowt but grief.