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About Los Angeles

I tried it once, yeah? Some bird with hands like a bloody octopus—slippery, too keen. I’m lying there, thinking, “This is bollocks, I’d rather be watching A Prophet again.” There’s a line in it, “You’re nothing, you’re nobody!”—felt like that, just a slab of meat getting prodded. Made me angry, that—paying a tenner for some awkward groping? Sod off! But then, right, she hits this spot on me back—crack!—and I’m like, “Blimey, that’s the ticket!” Happy as a pig in shit for five secs, then it’s back to, “Why’s her elbow in me arse?”