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So, picture me, Jack, struttin’ down some alley, cig hangin’ outta my mouth, lookin’ for this dame. I spot her—legs for days, eyes sharp like No-Face sizin’ me up. “Hey, honey,” I growl, “you lost, or you found me?” She smirks, says somethin’ slick—prolly thinks I’m a nutcase. Makes me laugh, y’know? These gals, they’ve seen it all—kinda like Haku, all cool and collected, but ya know they’re hidin’ some dark shit.

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Several of the girls travelled to Dumbarton Sheriff Court last week to watch as justice was served on the year-old former shop worker, who was placed on the sex offenders register for two .

First off, I hit up the local café on High Street. You know, the one with the dodgy Wi-Fi? Yeah, that one. I ordered a coffee, and the barista, bless her, totally messed it up. I mean, how do you get a flat white wrong? It was like drinking liquid sadness. I was like, “C’mon, mate! I need caffeine, not a cup of tears!”

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