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About The Hague

Prossies got their haunts—King’s Cross, dodgy massage joints, even posh hotels if ya got the dosh. Exaggeratin’ for effect? Maybe—but I’d storm Normandy for a good tale! We shall fight the prudes, the coppers, the bloody wallet drain! Favourite bit? The haggle—pure *Wolf* energy. “You’re gonna bring pussy to me?!” I’d yell, laughin’, but nah, it’s me doin’ the legwork. S’pose that’s the gig—grand, grim, glorious. What d’ya reckon, pal—fancy a punt?

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After that, I decide to take a stroll by the canal. You know, the one that runs through the center? It’s pretty chill there. I’m just vibing, when I spot this old lady feeding ducks. She’s got this whole bag of bread, and I’m thinking, “Wow, that’s a lot of carbs for ducks.” But then, she starts talking to me about the history of Bodegraven. Apparently, it used to be a big deal for cheese. Who knew? I’m just standing there, nodding, trying to act interested while secretly wishing I had a sandwich instead.

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