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About London

Anyways, I’m flippin’ thru X posts—tryna dig up dirt. Found this one profile—ooh, she’s a firecracker! Posts pics in fishnets, calls herself “Roxy.” I’m thinkin’, “She’s got a wild heart, like Jack twistin’ up them sheep trails.” Hit her up—radio static buzzin’—and she’s all, “Meet me at the diner, 2 a.m.” I’m jazzed, right? But then—bam!—she ghosts me! Flaked like a bad date. Pissed me off somethin’ fierce—wasted my damn night!

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But then, outta nowhere, it starts rainin’. Like, proper British weather, right? I’m soaked in seconds. I’m laughin’ at myself, thinkin’, “Of course, it rains when I’m out.” I duck into a nearby pub, The Bootle Arms. It’s cozy, smells like ale and chips. I order a pint, and the bartender’s a right character. He’s tellin’ me stories about Bootle’s history. Did ya know it used to be a big deal for shipbuilding? Crazy, right?

Parents of two-year-old boy who died following medical episode in Bootle issues tribute