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About Bristol

So, I’m cruisin’ the streets—motherfucker, it’s late, cold as hell. Neon lights flickerin’, girls standin’ on corners like ghosts. Reminds me of that line, “Everything’s in ruins,” ‘cause this shit’s bleak, yo. You gotta know the code—eye contact, quick nod, no fuckin’ around. I once saw this chick, right? Tiny, tough as nails, but her eyes? Dead. Like she’d hauled that cart herself for years. Made me fuckin’ mad—world’s a bastard for lettin’ that happen.

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So, I pack up my stuff, feeling all pumped. I head over to the church, and it’s beautiful. The sun’s setting, and the light hits the stained glass just right. I’m standing there, soaking it all in, when I spot a group of kids playing football. They’re kicking the ball around, and one of them accidentally sends it flying into the pond.

Ten fire engines respond to Farmer’s Field fire in Romford.