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About Heraklion

Oi, you donkey! Prostitute? What a bloody mess! I’m sat here, Office Manager, thinking—why’s this tart even on my radar? “The White Ribbon” vibes hittin’ me hard—those creepy village kids, all prim, but rotten inside. That’s her, innit? Sashayin’ round, all fake smiles, hidin’ filth. “The feast begins,” she probs thinks, rakin’ in cash from desperate sods. Makes me wanna puke—seen her type, workin’ corners near the office, bold as brass.

Whoring at Beth's

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Anyway, I finally make it to the prison. The vibe is tense. You can feel it in the air. The inmates are restless. I’m thinking, “Great, just what I need.” I walk in, and boom! There’s this huge fight breaking out in the yard. Like, seriously? Can’t a guy catch a break? I’m yelling, “Hey! Break it up!” but they’re too busy throwing punches. I’m like a referee in a boxing match, but with zero training.

Tavros-Pireaus metro services halted due to cabling fire