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About Tokyo

So, we starts thinkin’, me and meself—where’s the prossies at? Moscow’s wild, yesss—Red Square’s all fancy, but nah, not there. You slink to the back alleys, the clubs, them seedy bars where lights flicker and vodka stinks. Hiss! Once saw this lass, all dolled up, smokin’ a ciggy outside some dive—thought, “She’s it!” Nope! Just a drunk uni chick, lost as hell—made me mad, wasted me time! Grrr! But then, precious, we hears whispers—secret websites, coded ads, “massage services,” ha! Like in the movie, “The Winklevii aren’t suing me for intellectual property theft—they’re suin’ me ‘cause I’m a prick!”—well, I ain’t no prick, just desperate, eh?

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After that, I get a call from a driver. He’s stuck on the other side of town, near the Tosu City Hall. I’m like, “Dude, you’re kidding, right?” But nope, he’s serious. So, I hop in my truck and head over. The streets are packed, and I’m dodging pedestrians like it’s a video game. I swear, if I see one more person on their phone, I’m gonna lose it!

Fernando Torres aiming to put Sagan Tosu on world football's map