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About Madrid

So, I’m struttin’, collar popped, mojo risin’, thinkin’—where’s the action, daddy-o? Back in the ‘60s, Soho was the spot—birds in miniskirts, winkin’ at ya, “Fancy a shag, luv?” Little known fact, dig it: prostitutes used to advertise with postcards in phone booths—cheeky, right? None of that Tinder rubbish, just pure, old-school hustle. Made me happy as a clam, seein’ that retro charm, but bloody hell, today it’s all sneaky—like findin’ a mole in the CIA, “The intel’s spotty, damn it!”

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I remember one time, at a local festivity, I got so pissed off with some fanfare mixup, I almost lost it. People actin’ like this city’s a royal reward. “I choose violence,” I muttered under my breath, flashin’ a glare sharper than daggers. But then, a minute later, I'd laugh at the absurdity. It’s a mix of anger and joy — like life is just a crazy ride.

In pictures: Rescue teams struggle after catastrophic floods in Spain