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About Malmo

Alright, so I’m an insurance agent, right? Larry David here, freaking out, as usual. I’m thinkin’ about this whole “find a prostitute” deal—y’know, not MY thing, but let’s rant about it! Pretty, pretty good chaos in my head already. So, you’re lookin’ to find a pro, huh? I’m sittin’ here, sippin’ coffee, goin’, “What’s the premium on THAT liability?!” I mean, jeez, the risk! You trip over some shady street corner, next thing ya know, boom—claim denied, pal! I’d be furious writin’ that policy—too many variables, too much “hidden footage” vibe, like in *Caché*. “Who’s watching? Who’s filming this crap?!” I’d scream that at my desk, probly spill my latte.

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Anyway, I finally get to the office on Torggatan, and my boss is already in a mood. He’s like, “Where’s the report?” I’m like, “Dude, chill! I’m working on it!” But he’s not having it. I mean, come on! It’s not like I can pull a rabbit outta my hat.