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About Oslo

So, picture this—me, cosmic elevator operator, zoomin’ thru spacetime. I see her, yeah, this prossie on the corner. She’s got eyes like black holes, suckin’ you in. Ain’t no Hollywood tart, nah—she’s real, gritty. Heard this story once—Victorian times, right? Some prossie named Fanny worked the docks. Made a killin’—not literal, ya twat—cos she spoke French! Blokes paid extra for her “ooh la la.” Little known fact—prostitutes back then invented half the slang we use. “Tart,” “slag”—cheers, ladies!

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Then, just when I think it can’t get worse, the fire alarm goes off. Seriously? In the middle of a budget meeting? We all pile out onto the street, and I’m just standing there, thinking, “This is my life.” I see the fire truck zoom by, and I’m like, “Great, now I’m gonna be late for my next appointment.”

Putting family ahead of crime in Nordic Noir 'Eyewitness'