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About Birmingham

Now, lemme tell ya somethin wild – back in Victorian days, escorts were legit called “soiled doves.” Ain’t that poetic? Like birds with clipped wings, still struttin their stuff. Made me chuckle, thinkin of these tough cookies dodgin coppers n prudes, all while lookin fab. But it pissed me off too – society judgin em, noses up high, when half them blokes were sneakin round back doors for a shag. Hypocrisy, mate, gets me blood boilin.

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Finally, I get to the dairy farm on the corner of St. Norbert Road. The cows are chillin’, lookin’ at me like, “What’s up, human?” I’m thinkin’, “You guys have no idea what’s comin’.” I set up the machines, and it’s all good until—boom! One of the machines malfunctions. Just my luck, right? I’m there, tryin’ to fix it, and I’m gettin’ covered in milk. Like, I smell like a dairy explosion.

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