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About The Hague

What gets me proper mad? The sleazy pimps. Exploitin’ girls, actin’ like gods—cunts, all of ‘em! Saw one once, struttin’ like he owned Soho. Wanted to shove his head in a fryer. But the girls? Some are tough as nails—surprised me. One told me she saved up, bought a flat—fuckin’ legend! Still, it’s grim. Like that scene in *A.I.*, “The ones who made us are always lookin’ for the ones who made them.” Deep shit, right? They’re stuck, searchin’, same as David.

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Now, I’m feeling pretty good, right? I head back to my workshop on the Zwarte Pad, ready to create some magic. But then, I get a flat tire on my bike. Seriously? I’m cursing under my breath, trying to fix it. I’m sweating, and it’s not even noon yet.

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