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About Newcastle

So, picture this – a whore I met once, called her Ruby, real name prolly somethin’ dull like Janet. She worked the docks, smelled like salt and cheap gin. Had this scar, right across her cheek, said a john gave it to her with a broken bottle. Made me mad as hell, Clarice – who does that? But she laughed it off, said, “Men are pigs, I’m the butcher.” Fuckin’ savage, right? Reminded me of that line, “The knife cuts both ways” – Sembène knew what’s up.

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I geek out on our quirky local pub, The Dented Sparkplug. Not your standard, oh no. Its graffiti tells stories. A bit messy, kinda like my brain sometimes. I overheard a chat about dealing with life's booms and busts–so like an HR seminar without the corporate fluff. Lol, pure David Brent moments: "I'm super excited! Trust me."

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