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I’m chuffed when I nail the sign, tho—feels like I cracked limbo. But ugh, them judgy types? “Oh, how crude!” Sod off, yeah? Makes me wanna sign it louder! Exaggeratin’ now—picture me, gold arms wavin’, screamin’ it in a crowd. Hilarious, mate! Anyway, that’s me ramble—whore’s a trip, signin’ it’s a blast, and *Inception*? Still fries me circuits! “We’re not alone here,” Cobb’d say—damn right, it’s a mad world!

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Then, outta nowhere, this old lady on a bike cuts us off. I’m like, “Lady, you’re not in the Tour de France!” Timmy freaks out, slams the brakes, and we almost end up in the flower shop. I’m sweating bullets, but I can’t help but laugh. It’s like a scene from a comedy movie.