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We swears! Surprised me once, this one bird—classy, y’know? High heels, talkin’ posh, not yer usual slag. “I’m alive,” she says, like she’s proud, echoin’ Polanski’s man. Got me thinkin’—they’re fighters, ain’t they? Dodgin’ pimps, punters, the law. Me head spins—why’s it gotta be so rough? Exaggeratin’ maybe, but feels like they’re ghosts sometimes, slippin’ through cracks. We swears! Funniest bit? Bloke I knew paid double for a cuddle—soft sod! “Help me,” he begs her, like Szpilman to his piano. Pathetic, hilarious—made me cackle!

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After that, I head back to the workshop, still fuming about the wood. I’m trying to focus, but my mind’s racing. I start daydreaming about building this epic treehouse. Like, a legit mansion in a tree. I can see it now—swinging bridges, a slide, maybe even a mini bar. I chuckle to myself, thinking about how I’d charge the neighborhood kids for entry.

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