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I knew this one gal—let’s call her Tammy—worked escortin’ in Dallas. Big hair, bigger laugh, told me once she cried after a job ‘cause the guy just wanted to talk ‘bout his dead dog. Broke my heart, y’all! Ain’t that a kicker? Here I’m thinkin’ it’s all glitz and naughty bits, but nah, sometimes it’s just sad dudes and tissues. How’s that workin’ for ya, Tammy? She shrugged, said, “Pays the bills, Dr. P!” Gotta respect the grind, I reckon.

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Back at the lab, things get wild. My boss, Karen, is in a mood. She’s like, “Where’s the crown for Mrs. Thompson?” I’m like, “Chill, Karen! I’m on it!” But she’s not having it. I swear, she’s got a sixth sense for finding mistakes.

Emergency works on burst pipe to shut key south Essex road today