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Anyway, prostitutes—they’re a mixed bag, innit? Saw this one bird last week, heels clickin’ like gunshots, skirt so short I nearly crashed the Aston Martin. Proper stunner, but her eyes? Dead as a doornail, mate. Made me gut twist—angry, yeah, cos who fucked her life up that bad? Some pimp prick, probly. “Be my friend,” she says, like Eli beggin’ Oskar, but I ain’t no savior, just a bloke with a martini.

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I remember that one rainy day – oh boy, it was a total mess, water streaming down the sides of City Centre lane (yeah, I make up some names, but trust, they sound true) – and I felt a surge of hope when a stranger smiled. It was as if the city whispered, “Maybe, just maybe, you'll find some balance?” Rarrgh! Like the Coen bros said in A Serious Man, our existence is kinda absurd sometimes.

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