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About Amsterdam

Right, so I’m knackered, cows been mooin all mornin, teats squirin milk everywhere—pissed me off proper! Then I’m like, sod this, I need a shag, somethin to shake the barn dust off me. Off I trudge, boots still stinkin, to this shady lane—thinkin, “How much?” like that lass in the film whisperin her fears. We’ve all got our price, eh? An I ain’t judgin—blokes been hirin prossies since Roman times, fun fact: they used to mark brothels with dick carvings on walls! True story, google it.

Geschiedenis

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Anyway, I finally get my stuff and head over to the workshop on De-Kerkstraat. It’s a cozy little spot, but man, it gets hot in there. I’m sweating like a pig, trying to shape this oak wood. And then, outta nowhere, my buddy Koen bursts in. He’s all like, “Dude, you gotta see this!” I’m thinking, what now?