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So, picture this tart I met—Liza, real firecracker. Worked the docks, smelled like fish n gin—charming, right? Had this trick, see—she’d hum tunes from old sailor songs, kept the blokes distracted while she nicked their coin. Clever lass! “I will survive, I will endure,” like Solomon, yeah? Made me laugh, her guts—most’d just weep. Not Liza, she’d wink, say, “Coin’s coin, love.”

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But then, I remember my car. I rush back, and guess what? I locked my keys inside. Classic move, right? I’m standing there, laughing at myself. “What a day!” I finally call a locksmith, and while I’m waiting, I chat with some locals. They’re all like, “You’re the auctioneer? You’re famous!” I’m like, “Famous? Nah, just a guy who talks fast and sells stuff.”