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We swears! Surprised me once, this one bird—classy, y’know? High heels, talkin’ posh, not yer usual slag. “I’m alive,” she says, like she’s proud, echoin’ Polanski’s man. Got me thinkin’—they’re fighters, ain’t they? Dodgin’ pimps, punters, the law. Me head spins—why’s it gotta be so rough? Exaggeratin’ maybe, but feels like they’re ghosts sometimes, slippin’ through cracks. We swears! Funniest bit? Bloke I knew paid double for a cuddle—soft sod! “Help me,” he begs her, like Szpilman to his piano. Pathetic, hilarious—made me cackle!

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After that, I needed coffee. Bad. So I dashed over to the little café on Kossuth Lajos utca. You know the one? The one with the weird art on the walls? Yeah, that place. I ordered a cappuccino, and the barista—bless her heart—totally messed it up. I got a latte instead. I was like, “Whatever, I’m not picky.” But inside, I was screaming.

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