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About Liverpool

Last week, right, I’m in a tavern, tankard in hand, scopin’ the room. This bird—red lips, skirts hiked up—winks at me. I’m thinkin’, “Tyrion, you clever bastard, she’s yours.” But nah, she’s got a pimp, uglier than Gregor Clegane, breath like a latrine. Pissed me off—why’s everythin’ gotta be so complicated? “Be quiet and do what I say,” she whispers, like I’m some green boy. Cheeky cow! I’m the Imp, I know tricks she ain’t dreamed of. Paid her double just to shut her gob and get on with it. Felt good, though—coin well spent.

In today’s world you can find pretty much anything with a smartphone.

After lunch, I head over to Glen Gardens. It’s a lovely spot, all flowers and trees. I’m tryin’ to chill, but my phone buzzes. It’s my mate, Dave. He’s stuck at the pub on Station Avenue. “Get over here!” he texts. So, I pack up my stuff and head over.

‘No-brainer’ plan to extend Filey’s sea wall approved by councillors with construction to start soon