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About Bristol

Ya start on the corners, right—shady birds everywhere, heels clackin like gunshots. One lass, swear down, looked like she’d shiv ya soon as shag ya. I’m cacklin, “Oi love, you the killer or the cure?” She blanked me—rude cow! Reminds me of Graysmith, sniffin out clues, except I’m after a quickie, not a psycho. Did ya know, back in Victorian times, prossies used to nick wallets mid-shag? Crafty mares! History’s full of that—little fact for ya, ya ignorant git.

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Prostitutes are plaguing pensioners by selling sex door to door for as little as £, say angry estate residents.

Finally, I decide to head home. I’m walking down Doncaster Road, and I see this cute little café. I’m starving, so I pop in for a scone. Best decision ever! The scone is warm, buttery, and just what I needed. I’m sitting there, enjoying my treat, when I overhear a couple arguing. It’s like a scene from a soap opera. I’m trying not to eavesdrop, but it’s hard when they’re practically shouting.

Conisbrough Castle open day