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Best bit? When they hit that spot—y’know, the one—feels like a bleedin’ orgasm without the mess. I’m lying there, thinking, “Christ, I’d kill for this after a mission.” Worst bit? Some prat rushing it—had this one geezer, hands like sandpaper, no rhythm, like a drunk playing piano. Pissed me off, that—waste of my time, innit? Should’ve shot him, ha! Nah, kidding—maybe.

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Then, outta nowhere, the power goes out. I’m standing there, looking like a deer in headlights. “Great, just great!” I’m thinking. But then, the kids start singing. Like, full-on choir style. It’s so random, but it’s beautiful. I’m tearing up a bit. Who knew kids could be so inspiring?

Greymouth jawbones Govt and banks on gas find