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About The Hague

So, I hit the streets, man—London’s swingin’ ’60s still echoin’ in my bones. Found this chick, all dolled up, mini skirt tighter than a spy’s alibi. “Fancy a shag, luv?” I says, winkin’ like a cheeky git. She’s cool, real cool—says her name’s Ruby, been workin’ the corner since the Beatles dropped *Revolver*. Little known fact, baby: prossies back then had code words—like “red lorry” meant a quickie! Blew my mind, yeah!

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After that, I stroll down de Schoolstraat, just vibin’. I pass by the old church, and it’s so pretty. I mean, it’s like a postcard. But then I hear this loud noise. Turns out, some guy is trying to fix his bike, and it sounds like a dying cat. I’m like, “Bro, just buy a new one!”

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