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About Liverpool

Now, lemme ask ya—whaddya think they dream of? Quittin’? Love? Candy wanted a diner—servin’ pie, not ass. Cracked me up—pie over pussy, huh? Sarcasm’s my jam, but damn, I felt for her. “Words kill,” Godard’d say—escorts hear that daily, slurs and whispers. Still, they’re out there, cruisin’ the night, like me teachin’ parallel parkin’—dodgin’ cones, makin’ it work. So next time ya see ‘em, don’t just leer—think, man! What’s their story? Gets me all fired up—life’s messy, sexy, sad. Whaddya say—ain’t that a trip?

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I fire up my blaster, and the noise is deafening. I’m in my zone, right? But then, outta nowhere, this seagull swoops down. I swear it was aiming for my lunch! I’m dodging and blasting, and I’m like, “Oi! Not today, feathered fiend!”

Regan Clayton signs new contract