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About Sheffield

Oi, mate, it’s Bond—James Bond, suave, “Shaken, not stirred.” So, I’m a Forester now, yeah? Gotta tell ya bout this prossie—prostitute, I mean. Been thinkin bout her since I saw *Under the Skin*—you know, my fave flick. That movie’s got this vibe, right? “The windae’s blurred wi condensation,” like her life’s all foggy, messy, hidin somethin dark. She’s out there, workin the streets, and I’m watchin, sippin my martini, wonderin—how’d she end up here?

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Man, what a day! Seriously, I’m still reeling from it. So, I wake up in Newark-on-Trent, right? The sun’s barely up, and I’m already thinking about my factory on Northgate. You know, the one that’s been giving me grief lately. Ugh, don’t even get me started on that.

Newark village granted higher road to rise above floodwaters