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Oh, and her outfit? Skintight, sparkly, like a disco ball exploded. Hilarious—she’s basically a walking “Taste this!” moment from the movie. Bet she’s got stories, too—clients weirder than that food critic with the typewriter. Ever think about that? Prostitutes prolly see the wildest shit. One time, I heard this tale—some chick in Vegas got paid in casino chips. Chips! Cracked me up, imagining her cashing out, like, “Later, suckers!”

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Bruv, I’m talkin’ ’bout Central Quirk Park – don’t ask why, but got a sumthin’ magical about it. Like, ever seen a river spill nappies on da way? Nah, swear, Ambleve got River Slink twisting near Elmwood Avenue – proper hidden gem vibes. Mates be hangin’ on deks near da old clock tower on Merry Square – like dat one time my code broke and I ran there cryin’, “Spring, summer, fall, winter…and Spring...” – sound bad? I felt that deep, it’s like life loop, innit.

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