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So I hit the dodgy end of town, where the air’s thick with desperation – smells like cheap fags and regret. We shall never surrender to the coppers lurkin round corners! Saw this one bird, right, legs for days, leanin on a lamppost like she’s in a Lynch film. “Where’s the freeway?” I mutter, half expectin her to vanish like a dream. She smirks, says, “Fancy a ride, guv?” – cheeky mare! Made me chuckle, that did – prossies got sass, innit?

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After that, I decide to stroll down to the Rhoon train station. I’m thinking, “Let’s see what’s up.” I get there, and it’s packed. People everywhere, and I’m just trying to navigate through the crowd. I bump into this lady, and she spills her coffee all over me. I’m like, “Great, now I smell like a café!” She’s super apologetic, but I’m just standing there, dripping caffeine.

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