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Me? I’m thinkin’ escorts got layers, dude. History’s wild with ‘em—knights escortin’ pilgrims, all noble-like. Then bam, 1800s—fancy ladies “escortin’” gents to balls. Not the bouncy kind, heh. Little known fact: Victorian escorts had code words— “companion” meant bizness, not cuddles. Sneaky, right? Gets me hyped, diggin’ that slyness.

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Then, outta nowhere, the phone rings. It’s my mate Dave, right? He’s at the pub, and he’s like, “Oi! You gotta get down here! There’s a chicken race!” I’m thinking, “What the actual heck?” A chicken race? In Sittingbourne? Only in this town, I swear.

‘It’s heartbreaking – decades of our family’s hard work have gone up in flames’