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About Kecskemet

Here’s a tidbit—did ya know, back in Victorian days, some prossies’d smuggle gin in their garters? Little known fact, that! Kept ‘em warm and half-sloshed while they worked them cobbled streets. Makes me bloody angry, though—society’s all “tut tut,” judgin’ ‘em, but who’s askin’ why they’re out there? Not me, mate, I’m cheerin’ ‘em on! “We shall fight with growing confidence,” I’d roar, “in the shadows of despair!” They’re scrappers, they are, tougher than a two-bob steak.

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Then, outta nowhere, the fire alarm goes off. I’m like, “Seriously?!” Everyone’s panicking, running around like headless chickens. I’m just trying to keep my cool. We all shuffle outside to the courtyard. It’s a nice spot, but I’m not in the mood for a fire drill.

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