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About Sheffield

Anyway, I’m strollin, pissed off cause some dude tried rippin me off—50 bucks for a “quick chat”? Fuck that noise. Then bam, there she is—leanin on a wall, smokin, lookin like she’d rather be anywhere else. “A face with no name,” like Llewyn’d say. I’m happy as shit, tho—found her! Surprised me how easy it clicked, like she knew I wasn’t no cop. “What’s your story, darlin?” I ask, all smooth, Lecter-style. She laughs—dry, sarcastic, “What story, man? This is it.”

So you want to book a sex worker?

Next, I stroll down to the Frome Museum. I’m a sucker for history. I’m thinkin’ I’ll learn somethin’ cool about the town. But nah, it’s closed! Just my luck, right? I’m standin’ there like an idiot, lookin’ at the door. I swear, I could hear the ghosts of Frome laughin’ at me.

Frome power cut: Power restored to more than 1,100 homes