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So, check this – I’m strollin, mindin me own, when I spot her. Proper fit, yeah, but shady as fuck. Reminds me of the Joker – all charm, no soul. “Why so serious?” I’m thinkin – is she packin a knife or just heels that’ll kill ya? Made me bloody angry, mate! This ain’t no catwalk, it’s a fuckin minefield! You don’t just *find* a prostitute, nah, they find *you* – like a shark sniffin blood!

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So, I get to the clinic, right? It’s on Ben Gurion Ave. The place is packed. I mean, like, standing-room-only packed. I’m thinkin’, “Great, just what I need.” I grab my tools, and I’m ready to roll. But then, this dude walks in. He’s got a broken leg, and he’s actin’ like he’s auditioning for a drama. “Oh, the pain! The agony!” I’m like, “Dude, chill. You’re not dying.”

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