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About Nagoya

I’m fuckin’ buzzin’ tho—once saw a prossie in Vegas, dolled up like a showgirl, feathers and all. Thought, “Bloody hell, she’s got more style than half these wankers!” Surprised me, yeah—didn’t expect class in that game. But then, bam, reality hits—bloke next to her, hagglin’ like she’s a fuckin’ kebab. Pissed me right off! “You’re a disgrace, you soggy twat!”—that’s what I’d scream, Gordon-style.

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Then, I met up with my buddy Kenji. We were supposed to grab lunch at this ramen spot on Sakae Street. But guess what? It was closed! I was like, “Are you kidding me?” So, we ended up at this sketchy place. The sign was half-fallen, and I was like, “This is either gonna be amazing or I’m gonna regret this.” Spoiler: it was the latter. The ramen tasted like it was made in a microwave. Ugh.

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