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About The Hague

Little known fact—did ya know prostitutes in ancient Lys used to dye their bits purple? Aye, purple! Some fancy ritual or summat—dunno if it’s true, but I’d pay to see it. Imagine Rosie rockin’ that, struttin’ like she owns the joint. Makes me grin just thinkin’ bout it. But it ain’t all giggles—shocks me how many punters think they *own* her, like she’s a horse to ride. Pisses me off, that. She’s a person, not a bloody doormat!

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The market’s buzzing, right? Fresh veggies, flowers everywhere, and the smell of stroopwafels wafting through the air. I’m in heaven. I grab a stroopwafel, and it’s like a hug in my mouth. But then, outta nowhere, this kid runs into me. I spill my coffee all over my shirt. Ugh! I’m standing there, looking like a walking coffee stain. Great start, huh?

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