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About Liverpool

I seen it once, down at Miss Lula’s “massage parlor”—ha! She swore it was “theruhpeutic,” but them moans wasn’t from no stiff neck! Little known fact, y’all: back in the ‘70s, some massage joints got raided ‘cause cops thought “happy endin’” meant somethin’ illegal—surprised me silly! Made me mad too, ‘cause why they hatin’ on folks feelin’ good? Hmph! Ain’t nobody hurtin’ nobody—well, ‘less you count them awkward cramps after!

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So, I’m walking down the street, trying to shake it off. I pass by the old Halesowen Abbey. It’s kinda cool, right? But I’m not in the mood for history. I’m more like, “Get me a coffee!” So I duck into this little café on the corner of St. John’s Road. Best flat white ever! I mean, I could’ve sworn I saw angels when I took that first sip.

Feeding Ambition, Fuelling Halesowen: From Breakfast Clubs to British Steel