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About Birmingham

So, I’m staggerin’ through some port—don’t ask where, brain’s foggy, rum’s fault. Streets smell like fish an’ regret. There’s this gal, right? Red lips, skirt shorter than me attention span. I’m thinkin’, *Jack, you’ve seen worse deals.* But hold up—reminds me o’ that line, “Can you live without knowing?” Aye, makes me wonder—does she choose this? World’s a cruel bugger sometimes.

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I've seen people say she was working in one of little fingers brothels, but I've just done a reread and though I was looking.

Then, I overhear these locals chatting about the best fish and chips in Poole. Apparently, it’s at this place called The Fishery. I’m intrigued, so I decide to check it out. I walk over, and the smell hits me. Oh man, it’s heavenly! I order the special, and let me tell you, it did not disappoint. Crispy batter, fluffy chips—pure bliss!

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