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About Amsterdam

Oi, mate, a prostitute, yeah? Filthy business, innit? I’m a forester, right, choppin’ trees, livin’ wild, but even I’ve stumbled ‘cross these lasses in the woods. Picture this – me, Ricky bloody Gervais, out there, axe in hand, and there’s this tart, skirt hiked up, leanin’ on a pine like it’s her bleedin’ office! Cacklin’ like a hyena, I was – “What’s this, then? Nature’s callin’ or you just lost?” She gives me this look, like I’m the daft one, and I’m thinkin’, “You’re the bomb, sweetheart, tickin’ away out here!”

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Then, outta nowhere, I hear this loud noise. It’s a bunch of kids on bikes, racing down the Zwarteweg. They’re screaming and laughing, and I can’t help but smile. It’s like, that’s the spirit, right? But then one of them crashes into a lamppost. Ouch! I’m torn between laughing and checking if he’s okay. He gets up, brushes it off, and yells, “I’m fine!” Classic.

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