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About Portmore

Here I am, mates, in tha wild urban jungle, narratin’ like Sir David bleedin’ Attenborough – calm, rhythmic, watchin’ life unfold. Today, we’re stalkin’ a curious beast: the Ford Escort. Not the posh bird ya pay for a night out, nah, the car, ya muppets! Picture it, a scrappy little motor, buzzin’ round like a bee on a bender. Me fave film, “The Royal Tenenbaums,” pops in me head – “I’m not talkin’ about dance lessons here,” Richie’d say, an’ this Escort ain’t no fancy ride neither. It’s rough, it’s raw, it’s bloody alive!

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First thing, I hit the market on Caledonia Rd. You know, the one with the freshest produce? I’m talkin’ ripe tomatoes, sweet plantains, and the best yams. I was feelin’ good, ready to slice some meat and make magic happen. But then, bam! My supplier calls. “Yo, no pork today.” What?! No pork? That’s like a party without music! I was fumin’.

Mandeville begins to clear after passage of Hurricane Francine