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About Fukuoka

So, listen up, you twat! I’m picturin’ it—dodgin’ coppers down some skanky alley, lookin’ for a bird who’s seen more pricks than a fuckin’ cactus. “What’s your name?”—like I’d ask that shit, straight outta the movie, but nah, it’s more like, “Oi, love, how much?” Makes me wanna puke, but also—fuckin’ hell—kinda thrilling, yeah? Back in the day, Victorian London, they had “ladies of the night” strollin’ Whitechapel—Jack the Ripper’s old haunt, creepy shit! Bet they didn’t expect some sweaty chef like me judgin’ em now, eh?

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After that, I needed a pick-me-up. So, I hit up the Tsubata Shopping Street. It’s got everything—food, clothes, random knick-knacks. I found this cute little shop selling handmade crafts. The owner, an old lady, was super sweet. She told me stories about Tsubata’s history. Did you know it used to be a major post town? Crazy, right?

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