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About Medan

Started out last week, right, proper knackered after a pint too many. We shall fight the haze of booze, the fog of war in me head! Stumbled down Soho – not the posh bit, nah, the grimy end where the air stinks of chips and regret. Little known fact: back in Churchill’s day, they’d call em “ladies of the night” – fancy that, like they’re bloody duchesses! Made me chuckle, thinkin of some tart in a tiara, struttin like she owns the place.

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Then, outta nowhere, this kid runs by, bumpin’ into me. My satay goes flyin’! I’m like, “Noooo!” It’s like slow-mo, watchin’ it hit the ground. I’m furious, but then I see the kid’s face. He’s just a little guy, all wide-eyed and sorry. Can’t stay mad, right?

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