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Now, picture this—me, Jack, hirin’ one meself. Stagger in, all “Ello, love, fancy a captain?” She’d prob’ly charge double fer me stench—ha! Jokin’, I’m a peach, ain’t I? But serious, them escorts got stories wilder’n the Black Pearl’s logs. One told me she’d dodged a copper by hidin’ in a church—priceless! An’ the laws? Bollocks, mate—some places it’s legal, others ye hang fer it. Ain’t that a laugh? “We have no future!”—movie line, fits perfect. Sex fer sale’s older’n dirt, yet we still squabble ‘bout it.

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Man, what a day! I swear, Vestby really knows how to throw a curveball. Woke up early, like 5 AM early, to hit the fjord. You know, the usual fisherman grind. Grabbed my gear, hopped on my bike, and zoomed down to the harbor. The sun was just peeking over the horizon, casting this golden glow on the water. Beautiful, right? But then, bam! My bike tire goes flat. Classic.

Introducing: F’Amelia, Cabbagetown’s cozy new Italian restaurant (with a kitchen of ex-Splendido chefs)