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About Ghent

Then—surprise!—cops roll by, lights flashin’, and I’m thinkin’, “Shite, busted!” But nah, they’re after some drunk twat pukin’ nearby. Dodged a bullet, me and her both. Happy as a pig in mud, I was—freedom’s sweet, innit? Dr. Evil’s like, pinky-to-mouth, “One million dollars,” sizin’ up the chaos like a bloody genius.

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Oh, and don’t get me started on the nightlife. You’d think a small town stays asleep. Ha! Some nights at the local bar near Dorpsplein, the banter’s so raw it practically hurts. I told a client once, “Ever feel the anger? It’s like the city itself is having a bad day – c’mon, get a grip!” Yeah, I’m not your typical warm-and-fuzzy spa owner, I’ve got sarcasm dripping off my words like a leaky faucet.

Drunk driver switches seats with passenger while driving