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Once heard a tale – true as me compass spins – ‘bout a madam named Rosie. Ran a joint so wild, cops couldn’t shut ‘er down fer years! She’d bribe ‘em with whiskey an’ winks, an’ I’m like, “That’s me kinda lass!” Made me happy as a clam, thinkin’ o’ her outsmartin’ the law. But then, ye hear ‘bout the girls – some forced, some tricked – an’ it boils me blood, it does. “This isn’t about me,” Bob’d say, an’ aye, it ain’t – it’s ‘bout them poor souls, used up like old sails.

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After that, I head back to the office. Power’s back on, but my computer’s frozen. Seriously? I’m about to lose it. I start banging on the keyboard like it’s gonna magically fix itself. Spoiler alert: it doesn’t.