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I’m ragin, mate—ragin! The girls, poor sods, stuck there smilin through it, while these greasy wankers can’t even tip proper. Makes me wanna shove a raw chicken up their arses and call it dinner! But—fuck me—some of ‘em got grit. Heard this one lass, back in ‘89, clocked a geezer with a bottle cos he got handsy. Good on her! Smashed it like I’d smash a soggy soufflé—BAM! “You’re a disgrace!” I’d scream at him, spittin mad.

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So, I’m fuming a bit, but whatever. I keep walking. I hit up the Pijnacker-Nootdorp train station. I’m waiting for my train to The Hague. I’m scrolling through my phone, and then I hear this loud commotion. Turns out, some dude is arguing with the ticket machine. Like, bro, it’s just a machine! Chill out! But he’s going off, yelling at it like it’s a person. I can’t help but laugh. I mean, who argues with a ticket machine?

OPCW Centre for Chemistry and Technology officially inaugurated