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About San Diego

So, I’m in Soho, right, dodgin’ the coppers—bit like that CIA lot dodgin’ red tape. “We’re goin’ dark,” I growl, feelin’ all cinematic. Saw this bird, yeah, leanin’ by a lamppost—thought, “Blimey, she’s the target!” Heart’s racin’, palms sweaty—then bam, she’s chargin’ fifty quid! Fifty! I’m fumin’, mate—daylight robbery, that is. “This is the kill zone,” I hiss, tryna barter like some prat in a souk. She just laughs—cheeky mare—says, “Take it or sod off, guv.”

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I been here so long that every crack in the pavement tells a story. You might catch some local legends at the corner of Elm and 2nd. And don’t get me started on Grady’s—our little diner that serves the best greasy spoons in town. It's legit addictive, dude.

David Linthicum