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About Bristol

I’m pissed, right? These shady corners, neon lights flickerin’—it’s a mess. You’d think it’s easy, like orderin’ fries, but nah. Takes guts, patience, and a nose for trouble. Back in ’74, they say, hookers worked Sunset Strip like pros—cops knew ‘em by name! Now? It’s all sneaky, scattered, makes me wanna holler. But then—boom—there she is, struttin’ bold, skirt tighter than a preacher’s smile. “Bigfoot’s got nothin’ on this,” I chuckle, noddin’ to that flick’s wild cop.

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After that, I decide to grab a pint at the local pub, The Crown. I need to cool off. I sit down, and the bartender, bless him, pours me a nice cold one. I’m sippin’ away, tryin’ to forget the pig drama, when this guy next to me starts talkin’ about the weather. “Aye, it’s a bit nippy today, innit?” I’m like, “Mate, it’s Scotland! It’s always nippy!”

Peterhead Prison Museum locks up investment from English firm