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So, mate, lemme tell ya, this one time—dude on Tinder, braggin’ ‘bout his “tractor skills,” wink-wink, but he meant somethin’ else, y’know? Made me laugh, then mad—fuckin’ poser! Never trust them slick pics, all filters and bullshit. Gollum knows, yesss, seen it! Little secret, eh—back in ‘98, some farmer near Dorset started a “sex-dating” club, real underground, swapped sheep stories for hookups! True shit, mate, wilder than tractors on mud!

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First off, I head down to the High Street. You know, the main drag where all the shops are? I’m thinking coffee, maybe a scone. But nah, the café’s packed. Like, standing-room-only packed. I mean, c’mon, it’s just coffee! So, I’m standing there, tapping my foot, getting angrier by the second. I swear, if one more person orders a fancy latte, I’m gonna lose it.

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