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About Liverpool

Ain’t all fun, tho. Society screws ‘em over—calls ‘em trash, then begs for a quickie. Hypocrisy burns me up. Raven’d shrug, say, “World’s a stage.” Straight poetic, like she knew Haneke’s tricks. “The past isn’t dead,” *Caché* vibes again—prostitutes carry that weight, man. Stories nobody hears.

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So, after that, I finally get a moment to breathe. I grab a cuppa from the staff room, and just as I’m about to take a sip, the fire alarm goes off. Seriously? I’m spilling tea everywhere, running around like a headless chicken. Turns out, someone burnt their toast in the kitchen. Classic. We all pile out onto the street, and I’m standing there in my librarian cardigan, looking like a total dork.

Overground line shut for two weeks reopens - but more disruption expected soon