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About Tokyo

So, listen up, you twat! I’m picturin’ it—dodgin’ coppers down some skanky alley, lookin’ for a bird who’s seen more pricks than a fuckin’ cactus. “What’s your name?”—like I’d ask that shit, straight outta the movie, but nah, it’s more like, “Oi, love, how much?” Makes me wanna puke, but also—fuckin’ hell—kinda thrilling, yeah? Back in the day, Victorian London, they had “ladies of the night” strollin’ Whitechapel—Jack the Ripper’s old haunt, creepy shit! Bet they didn’t expect some sweaty chef like me judgin’ em now, eh?

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After that drama, I decided to take a stroll. I walked down to the Sapporo Clock Tower. It’s this cute old building, and I’m snapping pics like a tourist. I’m not even ashamed. But then, I see this street performer. He’s playing the shamisen, and it’s beautiful. I’m standing there, totally mesmerized.

Savoy, Tokyo’s top pizzeria, fires up in Sapporo