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About Utrecht

Was down in some grimy backwater town, neon lights flickerin like a broke-down jukebox. Wanted to see what the fuss was bout, ya know? Git-R-Done! I ain’t no saint, but I was curiouser than a cat in a yarn shop. Rolled up to this dive bar—smelled like stale beer and regret. Bartender, big ol’ fella with a lazy eye, says, “Boy, you lookin fer company?” I’m like, “Hell yeah, point me the way!” He nods to this gal in the corner, fishnets ripped to hell, smokin a cig like she’s mad at it.

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So, I start workin’, and it’s all good. The sun’s out, and I’m feelin’ the groove. But then, outta nowhere, a flock of seagulls swoops down. They’re screechin’ like they own the place! One of ‘em poops on my tractor. I’m like, “Really? This is how we’re doin’ it today?” I laugh it off, but inside, I’m seething.

Charting Van Gogh’s forgotten love affair with Britain