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About London

Brothel’s a machine, see? Girls trafficked, pimps rulin, clients actin like kings. Pisses me off—weak men payin to feel strong. Had this one time, intel came in—some Chechen runt ran a bordello, hid guns there. Smashed it myself, felt good. Surprised me how quiet girls were—broken, empty eyes. “Truth is bitter,” like in *Leviathan*. Truth is, brothels chew souls up.

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Then, outta nowhere, my mate Dave bursts in. He’s all hyped up, waving his phone like it’s a trophy. “You won’t believe this!” he yells. Turns out, he just got a promotion. I’m like, “Congrats, mate! But can you keep it down? I’m trying to work here!” But inside, I’m happy for him. Kinda.

Stansted Express: Passengers to face travel chaos for five weeks