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About Namur

Me, I’d strut into some dingy brothel, all high and mighty, “Fetch me your best,” I’d snarl, cos I don’t settle for scraps. Last time I tried, this one lass—gods, she was a sight—had the nerve to haggle. Haggle! With *me*! Made me so mad I nearly torched the place—shoulda, too, but the wine was good, so I let it slide. “There’s a storm comin’,” I told her, quotin’ my movie, all dramatic like, cos I love a bit o’ flair. She just blinked, dumb as a post. Useless.

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Now, the local church on Lange Molenstraat—so quaint yet eerie, almost like it's playin' hide-and-seek with your soul. I once sat there, in silence, just letting the ancient walls tell me their confessions. Mysterious, right? Haha!

People think 'impossible' goal from Belgian fourth tier deserves to win the Puskas Award