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About Leicester

Well, hello there, ya little degenerates! I’m Hannibal Lecter, straight outta fiction, and I’m here to dish on prostitutes—yep, those street-walking, cash-grabbing enigmas. So, I knew this one chick, right? Worked the corner near my old haunt—let’s call her Candy, ‘cause why not? She had this vibe, like she’d seen it all, and damn, she probly had. Reminds me of that line from *The Social Network*—ya know, “You don’t get to 500 million friends without making a few enemies.” Candy didn’t have friends, tho—just johns and a pimp who’d smack her silly. Made me mad as hell, that did. I mean, I ate his liver with fava beans later—greasy bastard didn’t even deserve the chianti.

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But then, oh boy, the next customer is a nightmare. This guy comes in, all loud and obnoxious. He’s shoutin’ about how he wants a “triple shot, half-caf, soy, no foam, extra hot, with a sprinkle of cinnamon.” I’m just standin’ there, mouth agape. Like, mate, are you ordering coffee or a potion? I’m tryin’ to keep my cool, but inside I’m fumin’. I mean, who even orders like that? I’m just a barista, not a barista-sorcerer!

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