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About Kharkiv

So, Escort, yeah? Proper beast, init. That Mk1, bruv, 1968, came out swingin’ – small, nippy, made them posh racers look like mugs. I’m watchin’ *Timbuktu*, and there’s this line, “The moon is pale,” right? Reminds me of Escort’s headlights, cuttin’ through the night, pale but fierce, ya feel? Used to see ‘em rally in Wales, mud flyin’, engines screamin’ – made me happy as a pig in shit, fam. But then, yeah, got angry, cos them rich twats in Ferraris dissed it, like, “Is it ’cos I is black?” Nah, mate, it’s cos Escort’s a workin’ man’s champ, not yer fancy bollocks.

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I haul it over there, and the theater is a whole vibe. It’s old-school, with those big red curtains and everything. But the sound system? Total disaster. I’m sweating bullets trying to fix it. I’m cursing under my breath, thinking about how I just wanted a chill day.

Russian forces kill five people in Donetsk and Kherson oblasts over past day