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About London

But then—fuck—some shit pisses me off. These girls, they’re out there freezin’, dodgy punters grabbin’ at ‘em, and coppers don’t give two shits. Surprised me once, seein’ this prossie—couldn’t’ve been 18—cryin’ behind a bin. “I must take care of you now,” she mumbled, like she owed the world somethin’. Broke my ice-cold heart, it did. Wanted to shoot some bastard for her, but nah, can’t play hero every day.

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I finally make it back, and my flatmate’s like, “Where’ve you been?” I’m like, “You won’t believe the day I had!” And I start telling him about the pigeon, the old dude, the footy game, and the car. He’s just staring at me, shaking his head. “You’re a mess, mate.”

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