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So I’m thinkin’, back in ’78, toured Amsterdam, yeah? Red light district, mate – fuckin’ mental! Birds in windows, tappin’ glass, wavin’ like I’m s’posed to bow or summat. One gal, right, she’s got this look – “Pale Man’s eyes in her hands,” y’know? Creepy as shit, but I’m pissed outta me skull, so I’m like, “Oi, love, how much?” She’s all business, no faff, an’ I’m happy as a pig in muck. Paid a tenner – cheap as chips back then, mate! Little known fact: them prossies used to knit between punters. Fuckin’ wild, eh? Sittin’ there with needles, makin’ scarves, then bang – next bloke’s in.

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Then, outta nowhere, this old dude, Mr. Szabo, comes up. He’s got this ancient knife that looks like it’s seen better days. I mean, it’s practically begging for mercy. I’m like, “Sure thing, Mr. Szabo, I got you.” But as I’m sharpening, he starts telling me about his glory days. Dude, I’m tryin’ to focus here! But he’s all like, “Back in my day, we didn’t have fancy gadgets.” I’m thinkin’, “Yeah, and you probably walked uphill both ways too.”

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