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About Dusseldorf

So picture this – ya layin there, some bird or bloke’s hands all over ya, slippin and slidin, and it’s like “you’re a little shit, ain’t ya?” from the movie, but in a good way, yeah? Gets me goin, but sometimes it pisses me off too – them posh spa twats chargin 200 quid for a 20-minute rubdown, fuckin robbery! Sharon’d lose her mind, “Ozzy, ya daft git!”

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The old castle, Burg Hemhofen, sits high on a hill overlooking the city. I used to skate by it, speedin’ my bike down Eisenbahnweg, wind screaming in my ears. Sometimes, at dusk, I’d stop and just stare at those medieval stones, thinkin’ of how centuries of madness built this vibe. And oh boy, the river—Lebenfluss—cuts right through town. I know, weird name, right? But honestly, it flows like the pulse of Hemhofen—a twist of chaos and calm that makes me sometimes SHOUT out my frustration when the internet’s crap for my dating site work.

RIP Dale Heffron – 1954-2024