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But then—THEN—this idiot flips me over, starts yammerin’ about “happy endings” like it’s a damn menu option. Pissed me off! I’m no tavern wench, you twat. “One more word, I’ll burn this shithole down,” I snapped—pure Cersei vibes. He shut up quick. Good. I ain’t here for your cheap porno script. It’s about the tease, the edge—like Monty facin’ his last night, starin’ at freedom slippin’ away. “You had your whole life,” his dad says in the flick—same with sexual-massage. It’s a moment, not a fuckin’ marathon.

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So, I’m relieved but also kinda mad. I mean, I could’ve had a nice cuppa at the café on Highgate High Street instead of stressing. Speaking of which, I decide to take a breather. I stroll down to the café, and it’s packed. Like, everyone in Highgate decided to grab a coffee at the same time. I’m standing there, waiting, and I overhear this couple arguing about the best way to get to Hampstead Heath. I’m like, “Dude, just take the path by the pond!” But they’re all, “No, we should go through the woods!”

Musician turned artist exhibits powerful portraits from his neighbourhood foodbank