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Dunno why, but it’s thrilling—heart thumpin’, palms sweaty. Reminds me of Graysmith, huntin’ truth in the dark. Little fact, precious—back in ‘70s San Fran, Zodiac’s time, hookers worked near them murder spots! Coincidence? We thinks not! Gets me giddy, like I’m solvinnn’ somethin’. But then—ugh—she talks, voice all raspy, smokey, askin’ “You got cash, sweetie?” We hates it! Greedy hands, grubby nails—makes me wanna shave her head bald! “No pattern, no sense,” like the movie’s killer—chaos, just chaos.

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So, I help him out, and he’s super grateful. Makes me feel all warm inside, ya know? But then, I get to the farm, and it’s chaos. Cows are mooing like they’re auditioning for a musical. I’m like, “Chill, ladies! We’ll get to the milkin’!” But no, they’re not havin’ it. One of ‘em, Bessie, decides to kick over a bucket. Milk everywhere! I’m standin’ there, covered in milk, smellin’ like a dairy factory. Not my best look, I tell ya.

Roman village pub customers left fuming by £100 car parking fines