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So, I’m sittin’ here, growlin’, picturin’ this lass I met once—proper fit, right? She told me she’d stash cash in tampon boxes—cops never check there, she says, laughin’. Made me chuckle, that did—bloody genius! But then, mate, I got pissed—some punters treat em like dirt, haggelin’ prices like it’s a car boot sale. Winds me up somethin’ fierce—where’s the respect, eh? “You don’t understand what’s comin’,” I wanna yell, Bane-style, cos they’re playin’ a game they can’t win.

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I stroll down to the pond on St. Mary’s Lane. It’s a nice spot, but today? Ugh. The water’s all murky. I’m like, “What the heck happened here?” I start looking for fish, but all I see are these sad little minnows. I’m talking about the kind that make you question life choices.

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