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Hate the fakes, tho – ugh! Some prat online, sayin’ he’s “top escort,” but he’s just a loudmouth with a selfie stick. Makes me wanna chuck me telly out the window – crash! Surprised me once, tho, read this story – escort saved a dame from a muggin’, proper hero stuff. “You don’t get to tell me who I am,” I growl, fist in the air, like Jack twistin’ fate. Reckon I’d be rubbish at it, tho – me, escortin’? I’d trip, lose the client, end up in a bush, heh!

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After that, I stroll down to the riverside. The Thames is lookin’ all pretty, boats bobbin’ about. I sit on a bench, just chillin’, when this family walks by. They’ve got a dog, right? And this dog decides it’s a great idea to jump on me. I’m covered in mud and dog hair. Great. Just what I needed. I’m laughin’ it off, but inside, I’m like, “Why me?”

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