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Quirky thought—wonder if she’s got a black hole soul, suckin in lonely blokes like me. Cosmic, innit? Typin this fast, fingers shakin—prolly fucked up ten words already. Oi, “chance is a gift,” Amélie whispers in my head. Paid her, rolled off—felt alive, mate. Findin a prostitute? Weird, messy, brill. Chat later—universe calls!

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Then I head over to the market on the square. It’s buzzing! I grab a bacon sarnie from this little café, The Coffee House. Best bacon butty in town, no joke. I’m munching away, and this old lady starts chatting me up about her cat. I’m like, “Yeah, cool, but I gotta go.” But she’s relentless! Turns out her cat’s name is Mr. Whiskers. Classic.

Central Bedfordshire College students shape the future of Dunstable Town Council’s digital presence