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About Newcastle

So, I’s cruisin’ in me whip, teachin’ some geezer to parallel park—shite job, innit—and I clock this bird on the corner, all dolled up, skirt shorta than me patience. I’s like, “Bruv, she’s graftin’ harder than me on a Monday!” Made me laff, but then I got vexed—why’s she gotta do that, eh? Is it ‘cos I is black? Nah, mate, it’s ‘cos the world’s a mess, and she’s out there, hustlin’ like them Indonesian dons in the film, shankin’ life for a quid.

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But then, the mood shifts. This group of lads walks in, and they’re loud. Like, really loud. They start arguing about football, and I’m just sitting there, trying to enjoy my drink. One of them spills his pint all over the table. I’m like, “Mate, chill!” But they’re too busy shouting to notice.

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