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Still, it’s a mess, findin’ one. We hates it! Too many fakes—catfishin’ worse than a Tinder swipe. Reckon Wes Anderson’d make it pretty, all pastel pinks, but real life? Muddy, mate. Oh, and the coppers—always sniffin’ ‘round, like that nosy concierge, “What is the meaning of this?!” Bust a prossie ring near me flat once—17 of ‘em, lined up, cuffed! Mad sight, that.

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Then, outta nowhere, the fire alarm goes off. I’m thinking, “Great, just what I need.” We all pile out onto the street, and it’s pouring rain. Typical British weather, right? I’m standing there, soaked, and I see this seagull swoop down and steal someone’s chips. I mean, come on! Even the birds are savage here!

Appeal after pensioner was punched while walking his dog in Old Hunstanton