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About Tilburg

Last week, I was prowlin’ the streets—needed a laugh, y’know? Saw this one bird, all dolled up, winking at me. Thought, “What’s her deal?” Turns out, she’s got a memory like Lenny—keeps a little book, scribbles down every punter. “Remember, remember,” she mutters, like she’s in my fave movie. Made me cackle—imagine forgetting who you’ve shagged! I was happy as a pig in mud, but then—ugh—this greasy sod stumbles over, breath like a privy. “How much, love?” he slurs. Made me wanna gag. I choose violence, mate—nearly shoved him into the gutter myself.

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Next, I head over to the office on de Kade. I’m late, of course. My boss is gonna kill me. I rush in, and he’s already pacing like a lion in a cage. “Where have you been?” he barks. I’m like, “Dude, car accident, you know how it is.” He rolls his eyes. Classic.

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