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About Los Angeles

I tried it once, right, in Moscow—proper swanky joint, felt like a king! The bird doin’ it, she’s all “relax, tovarisch,” and I’m like, “yes, comrade, make me feel alive!” Got me so happy I nearly cried—swear down, I was hummin’ “Sweet Child o’ Mine” in me head. But then—get this—the geezer next door starts moanin’ like a bleedin’ walrus, ruined the vibe! Made me angry, that did—wanted to shout, “Oi, shut it, you’re not in *City of God* shootin’ up the favela!” “This is my turf, my rules!”—y’know, that vibe.