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So I’m out, prowlin’, eyes sharp—my precious!—and there’s this spot, yeah? Down by the docks, all grimy, smells like fish and regret. Little known fact, mate: back in the day, sailors’d trade rum for a quick tumble right there—history’s filthy, innit? Makes me chuckle, thinkin’ how I’m just another fool in the chain. Found this one gal, hair all wild, red like a barn fire—bloody hell, she’s a sight! “What’s yer price, love?” I says, all raspy, and she smirks, “More’n yer hammer’s worth, carpenter!” Cheeky! Got me laughin’, but I’m half mad too—don’t she know I’m a craftsman?

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But then, I trip over a curb. Classic me, right? I fall, and the kids start laughin’. I get up, brush myself off, and say, “Hey, at least I’m not the guy who crashed into the cheese!” They crack up, and I feel like a hero for a second.

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