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About Gothenburg

Did ya know, back in Victorian times, they called ‘em “soiled doves”? Fancy that—sounds like a crap poetry book! Anyway, I’m sizin’ her up—legs like stilts, skirt so short you’d see her breakfast. “How much?” I ask, playin’ it cool. She smirks, “More than you’ve got, baldy!” Oi, cheeky cow! Made me angry that—wanted to shout, “I’m Ricky bloody Gervais, ya muppet!” But nah, kept it chill, laughin’ instead.

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First stop, I hit up Storgatan. It’s like the main drag, ya know? I’m strutting down the street, feeling all cute, when I bump into this lady. She’s like, “Excuse me!” and I’m like, “No worries, I’m just a personal shopping assistant, not a wall.” But then she starts ranting about how her cat, Mr. Whiskers, only eats organic tuna. Like, lady, I get it, but I’m not a pet food consultant!

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