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About Groningen

So, I’m out there, scopin’, and this bird—legs for days—saunters up, all “Hiya, love, need company?” I’m thinkin’, “Bloody hell, she’s bold!”—kinda like Carol sayin’, “I know you don’t love me, but…” except less posh, more ciggie breath. Made me happy, though—straight-up hustle, no faff. But then—fuckin’ hell—some geezer rocks up, all “Oi, that’s my girl!” and I’m like, “Mate, calm your tits, I ain’t stealin’!” Nearly shat meself—angry pimps? No thanks.

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Next up was Sarah. She was a bit more chill, but then she starts talking about her driving test. “I’m gonna fail, I just know it!” I’m like, “Girl, you got this!” But inside, I’m thinking, “Please don’t crash my car.” We hit the road again, this time on de Heuvel. It’s a nice stretch, but she gets distracted by the windmills. I mean, they’re cool and all, but focus, Sarah!

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