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What pisses me off? Pretentious spas chargin’ a king’s ransom for a half-arsed tease. Surprised me once—bloke I knew, stiff as a corpse, walked out bouncin’. True story! Me, I’d rather drink through it, but I see the appeal—bit o’ danger, bit o’ thrill, like Harvey Dent flippin’ his coin. “You either die a hero”—or limp outta there smilin’. Hah! Reckon I’d tell Nolan to film *that* next—erotic-massage, Gotham-style. Chaos, oil, and me sippin’ in the corner. “I drink and I know things”—and mate, this shit’s wild!

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And ohhh, the damn river Oodle flows right by, kinda like that sly, sneaky presence in the film, gollum-ish and mysterious—it splits the city near Dockside Quay, where I once sat, cryin' or laughing at the world, not sure which, my precious… Oooh, you should see the reflections of the old clock tower, right on Bridge Street near Saint Mary's Alley. It’s a twisty, funny old place, makes you think "the wall" is near, all guarded secrets, yesss indeed.

Gareth Cullimore fires Undy Athletic's winner at Penybont in Nathaniel Cars Welsh League Cup tie