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About London

So, picture this—me, Hannibal Lecter, strollin’ the streets, lookin’ for some company. Not to eat ‘em, mind ya—well, maybe a nibble. “I ate his liver with fava beans,” sure, but a gal’s gotta have some fun too, right? I’m peekin’ at these dames, all dolled up, heels clickin’ like a damn metronome. Makes me happy, seein’ ‘em strut—confidence, power, ya dig? But then, ugh, the creeps lurkin’ nearby—pisses me off. Slimy bastards thinkin’ they own the night. Makes me wanna serve ‘em up with a nice Chianti.

Then, I head out to King’s Boulevard. It’s this cool pedestrian street, all lined with shops and restaurants. I’m feeling peckish, so I grab a bite at this place called Dishoom. It’s Indian food, and let me tell ya, it’s like a flavor explosion in my mouth. I order a lamb biryani, and it’s so good, I almost start crying. I mean, who knew rice could make you feel this way?

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