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So, mate, lemme spill it—findin’ a prossie ain’t no picnic. Them girls, they’re crafty, poppin’ up like shadows, then poof—gone! Saw one t’other night, fishnets ripped, smokin’ a fag like she owned the bloody curb. “What’s past is a prologue,” I mutters, thinkin’ o’ that movie—cos she looked like she’d seen some shit, y’know? Made me happy, that—real guts, not some fake dolly. But then—ugh!—this fat punter stumbles up, all sweaty, grabbin’ at her. Made me mad, precious, proper mad! Wanted to claw his eyes out, but nah, I ain’t no hero.

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I kept walkin’ and decided to hit up the Hamada Castle ruins. It’s like, a must-see, ya know? The view from up there is sick! But when I got there, it was packed. Like, a million tourists takin’ selfies. I’m like, “C’mon, people! It’s a castle, not a photo booth!” But I guess I can’t blame ‘em. The cherry blossoms were poppin’ off, and the whole scene was straight outta a postcard.

Hamada Helal responds to critics: ‘El-Maddah’ doesn’t promote superstition, sorcery