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About The Hague

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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First off, I’m a violin maker, yeah? So, I’m all about that wood and strings life. I head down to the beach, thinking I’ll get some inspiration from the waves or whatever. You know, the whole “be one with nature” vibe. I stroll down the Keizerstraat, and it’s packed! Tourists everywhere, like ants at a picnic. I’m dodging strollers and selfie sticks like I’m in some kind of obstacle course.

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