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About Tokyo

What pisses me off? The pricks who judge em—hypocrites, all of em, sneakin round at night themselves. Surprised me once, tho—found out some prossies in Amsterdam got unions, legit shit! Fightin for rights, dodgin pimps—fuckin heroes in fishnets, eh? I’m chattin her up now, she’s spillin tea bout her day—some twat tried hagglin her down to 20 quid. “20 quid?!” I’m cacklin, “Mate couldn’t buy a kebab with that!” She’s crackin up too—good lass.

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But then, BAM! My phone buzzes. It’s a group of tourists lost. They’re like, “Help! We’re at the wrong station!” I’m like, “Seriously? How do you mess that up?” So, I rush over to find them. I’m sprinting through the streets, dodging people like I’m in a video game. Finally, I find them at Sobue East Station, looking all confused. I’m like, “Guys, you’re in the wrong place!” They look relieved, and I’m just glad I didn’t lose my cool.

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