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I’m laughin’ now—imagine Thor tryin’ this! He’d blush redder than his cape, the nonce. Me? I’m in my element—chaos, deals, quick thrills. “You’re a bleedin’ poet,” I tell her, tossin’ her an extra fiver. She smirks—rare win. “I won’t be here forever,” she says, echoin’ “Nobody’s watching.” Dunno if I believe her—prossies say that a lot.

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First off, I grab my gear and head down to the beach. Mablethorpe’s got this lovely stretch of sand, ya know? The kinda place where you can smell fish and chips from a mile away. I’m walkin’ down the promenade, dodging kids and their ice creams. Seriously, how do they manage to get ice cream everywhere? It’s like a sticky explosion.

'Huge relief' as badger-damaged road fixed earlier than planned in Mablethorpe