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About Kobe

But then you get the creeps, don’t ya? The punters—sweaty, baldin’ tossers who reckon they’re God’s gift. “I’m a real man,” they’d slur, like in the film—*“I’m a gangster, a free man!”*—but nah, mate, you’re just a sad sack with a fiver. Makes me angry, that does, the entitlement. I’d wanna scream, “Oi, you wanker, she’s not your bloody therapist!” Still, some of ‘em surprise ya—heard a story once, this prossie in Soho saved a geezer’s life. He was chokin’ on a kebab, she Heimliched him—hero stuff! Didn’t expect that, did I? Nearly pissed myself laughin’ thinkin’ bout it.

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Then, outta nowhere, I hear laughter. I turn around, and it’s the inmates. They’re watchin’ the whole thing go down like it’s a reality show. I swear, if I had a dollar for every time I wanted to strangle one of those guys… Anyway, I can’t let them see me sweat. So, I put on my best “I’m in control” face.

Jack Swanson & John Arida – December 8, 2023