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I’m leanin’ on me till, dreamin’ – “I’m tired of thee, of all!” – straight outta Ten, that line, cos I’m bored of punters, but not them cars. Me mate Dave had one, rusted to buggery, but he swore it’d outrun a steed. Laughed me arse off when it coughed smoke like a dragon with a cold! Fun fact, tho – Escort’s name? Came from some posh yacht, ain’t that a giggle? Ford’s like, “let’s slap luxury on this tin can!” Pure jest, mate.

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Finally, she leaves, and I can focus. I’m hammerin’ away, gettin’ into the groove. Then, I hear this loud crash outside. I rush out, and there’s a guy on a bike, totally wiped out. He’s okay, but his bike? Not so much. I’m tryin’ to help him up, and he’s like, “Nah, I’m good.” But I’m thinkin’, “Dude, you just ate pavement!”

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