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About Fukuoka

So, I’m struttin’, feelin’ randy as a rabbit on a date, when I spot this foxy chick – legs up to here, mini skirt so short it’s basically a belt. “Groovy, baby!” I yell, but then – bam! – some plonker tries rippin’ me off. Charges me double, says she’s “exotic.” Exotic my arse! She’s from bloody Essex! Got me all steamed up, that did – I’m no mug, yeah? “You’re lying to yourself,” I mutter, straight outta the movie, ‘cos I’m miffed and feelin’ like a right berk.

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First off, I grab my tools and head out. The streets are buzzing. I mean, it’s Makubetsu, so you got the usual mix of old-school charm and modern chaos. I pass by the old shrine on Takamatsu Street. It’s peaceful, but then I hear this loud honking. Some dude in a tiny car is tryin’ to squeeze through a crowd. Like, c’mon man, it’s not a race! Chill out!

Teammates, fans stand by speed skater Nana Takagi