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Once heard a tale—lass named Kitty. Worked in 1800s, robbed rich blokes blind! Sneaky like me, precious, oh yes! Surprised me—thought they just shagged, nope! Some’s clever, some’s daft—bloody mix. Stupid, fat hobbit’d miss that, he would! “Everything’s a mess,” like Lucrecia says. True fer prossies, true fer me.

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Then I head over to the market on the square. It’s buzzing! I grab a bacon sarnie from this little café, The Coffee House. Best bacon butty in town, no joke. I’m munching away, and this old lady starts chatting me up about her cat. I’m like, “Yeah, cool, but I gotta go.” But she’s relentless! Turns out her cat’s name is Mr. Whiskers. Classic.

FA YOUTH CUP RUN ENDS AT DUNSTABLE