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Oi, mate, it’s me, Loki—yep, that smug bastard! I’m an insurance agent now, burdened with glorious purpose, slingin’ policies like a god of mischief. So, sexual-massage, eh? Let’s dive in, you filthy mortal! I reckon it’s a dodgy game—half legit, half shady as Hel. You got these parlors, right, promisin’ “relaxation” with a wink. Makes me smirk—‘cause I see through the bullshit. Like in *Memento*, “Memory’s unreliable,” innit? You walk in thinkin’ it’s just a rubdown—bam, next thing, yer pants are gone!

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So, I head back to Cotgrave, feeling a bit better. I stop by the local café on Cotgrave Lane. Best coffee in town, hands down. I grab a flat white and sit outside, just soaking in the vibe. The sun’s shining, kids are playing, and I’m thinking, “Maybe today ain’t so bad after all.”

Thug who stabbed man in chest during Cotgrave club brawl jailed