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So, how’s it work? Dunno, I’m no expert—bit of a numpty, me. Word is, you scope X, dark web, or some seedy corner pub. Look for signals—red lights, fishnets, winks. Subtle as a brick, sometimes. Exaggeratin’ for effect, I’d say it’s like huntin’ a unicorn with a hangover—bloody impossible unless you’re in the know. Me, I’d prob’ly balls it up, end up with a parking fine instead.

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First off, I spilled my coffee all over my favorite shirt. Classic me, right? I mean, who needs a clean shirt when you’ve got a busy day ahead? Anyway, I rushed out the door, late as usual. Traffic on the A550 was a nightmare. I swear, I could’ve walked faster. I was stuck behind this ancient bus on Station Road. Like, come on, mate, it’s not a Sunday drive!

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