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About Lille

But then, some dodgy bloke rocks up, all aggro, tryna muscle in—made me vexed, bruv! I’m like, “Mate, chill, I ain’t here for beef!” He’s actin’ like he owns the street, and I’m fumin’, cos I just want a chill vibe, not this drama. “Is it ’cos I is black?” I shout, half-jokin’, half-pissed, and he legs it—coward! Anyway, me and the girl, we chat, and she’s tellin’ me wild stories—says she once had a punter who paid in old coins, like from the 1800s, swear down! I’m gobsmacked, thinkin’, “What past life was that geezer from?”

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So, I’m fuming now, right? I decide to walk it off. I head over to the Canal Royal. It’s beautiful, with all those colorful houses lining the water. I’m trying to chill, but I can’t shake off that stupid bird. I sit on a bench, and this guy next to me starts talking about the best spots for seafood. He’s raving about the tielle, this local dish. I’m like, “Dude, I just lost my breakfast to a feathered thief!”

Water jousting in southern France