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About London

We shall fight the chaos, mates! Escort’s a bleedin’ art – two screws up front, one in back, chains tight, eyes sharp. Little known fact: back in Victorian days, they’d parade ‘em through streets, crowds jeerin’. Proper circus, that! Nowadays, it’s vans and tasers, but the tension? Same as ever. Gets me goat when some rookie screw chats up the con – mate, shut yer gob, he ain’t yer pal! Last week, this lanky sod tried bribin’ me with a fag – a cigarette, ya div – durin’ escort. Laughed in his face, I did. “This isn’t home anymore,” I growled, nickin’ that *Brooklyn* line. He shut up quick.

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So I dive into my work, tryin’ to focus. But then, my phone buzzes. It’s my mate, Tom. He’s like, “You won’t believe this! The old mill on Mill Lane is bein’ turned into flats!” I’m like, “What? That place is a piece of history!” But hey, money talks, right?

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