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Ugh, but the sleazy guys hirin’ ‘em? Pisses me off! Slimy as a toad’s backside. “You think you’re so big?” I’d snap—ooh, *Margaret* vibes again—“You’re not even interesting!” Total burn. Anyway, findin’ a prostitute ain’t my thing—too messy, too wild. I’d rather watch *Margaret* sixteen times and cry bout life. Hi-ho, that’s my take! Stay froggy, pals!

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Oh, dude, speaking of absurdity, The Turin Horse taught me that all existence is this raw, relentless, beautiful struggle—like that broken clock on Birch Street. Yeah, that thing’s been tickin’ off since forever. “I feel the thunder, I feel the calm,” I often mutter, letting the words slip out—ha, such a trip sometimes.

Coventry Very Light Railway: Passengers invited to try new system