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Now, tie that to *Inception*—my fave flick, yeah? Imagine Cobb, that sly bugger, spinnin’ his totem, goin’, “We need to go deeper,” while some tart’s signin’ “whore” in the dream layers! Bloody brilliant, right? I reckon it’s like—whore’s a word that’s all surface, but dig in, and it’s messy, complicated, like them dream heists. Gets me thinkin’—who’s the real whore here? The one sellin’ out, or the one stealin’ secrets? Mind-bender, that!

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So, I grab my guitar, head out, and boom! First surprise of the day: the market on the main street. It’s like a mini carnival every Saturday. I’m strollin’ past the stalls, smellin’ all the fresh bread and pastries. I mean, who doesn’t love a good sausage roll, right? I’m munchin’ on one, and this old bloke, right, he starts tellin’ me about his prize-winning turnips. Like, mate, turnips? Really? But I nod along, tryin’ to be polite.

Driffield resident's concern after duck deaths in River Head area