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But the blokes? Oh, christ, the blokes! Sweaty, sad gits, stumblin’ over their trousers. “You’re a walking disaster!” I’d howl, cacklin’ like a hyena. One time, saw this geezer hagglin’ – hagglin’! – like it’s a car boot sale. Mate, it’s a prossie, not a second-hand toaster! Had me in stitches, tho – what a prat.

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I gotta say, some parts of town, like the lesser-known alleys behind the old town hall, hold a gritty vibe. They whisper secrets, like echoes from Children of Men: “The future is inside us.” Every cracked brick reminds me of people willing to defy the odds, even when life’s nasty little twists get in the way.

Georges Carteus (Ronse, BE) has passed away