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About Leicester

Ya wanna know the worst part? The cops—yeah, they’re sniffin round these spots like dogs on a steak. Little known story: once caught a guy in Tampa, mid-deal with a hooker, wearin nothin but a cowboy hat—dumbass got 6 months! I ain’t riskin that, no sir. “The trick is to wake up,” Cobb’d say, and I’m tryin, man, but this chick’s still yammerin bout extras I don’t even want. I hate everything— the noise, the smell, her damn perfume cloggin my nose.

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Then, outta nowhere, my boss, Mr. McGregor, storms in. He’s fuming. Apparently, some bigwig in Edinburgh pulled a fast one on us. I’m like, “Dude, chill! It’s just stocks!” But he’s not having it. He’s pacing around like he’s got ants in his pants. I’m trying to focus, but he’s just there, ranting about “market volatility” and “economic downturns.” I’m thinking, “Can’t you just take a breather?”

Police success in tackling Linlithgow's anti-social behaviour