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About Sapporo

Heard this mad story once—true as I’m standin here—this tart in London, right, used to smuggle dope in her knickers for the Krays back in the ‘60s. Proper gangster shit! Ain’t common knowledge, that. Ballsy as hell, made me laugh—imagine the coppers’ faces! “What’s that smell?” “Just me perfume, officer!” Cheeky cow.

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So, I’m walking, feeling all good, when I bump into this group of tourists. They’re lost, looking for the Sandacho Castle. I’m like, “Dude, it’s just up the hill!” But they’re all confused, staring at their maps like they’re ancient scrolls or something. I try to help, but they just keep asking about the best sushi spots. I’m like, “You’re in Sandacho! Just eat everything!”