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What gets my goat? The fakes, mate! Catfishers – *persona non grata* – wastin’ time with dodgy pics. Had a pal, swore he met Margot Robbie, turns out it’s Dave from Slough with a wig. Fumin’, I was! But then – *cor blimey* – the thrill! You’re chattin’, heart’s racin’, “Is this it?” Like Freddie askin’, “What’s the use of it?” in the film – sex-dating’s a gamble, pure *audere est facere*, to dare is to do.

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After that, I’m feeling a bit peckish. I hit up a hot dog stand. Best hot dogs ever! I mean, they put everything on it. Ketchup, mustard, crispy onions, and this special sauce. I’m in heaven. I sit down on a bench, and this seagull swoops in. I’m like, “Not today, bird!” But it’s too late. The hot dog’s gone. I’m just sitting there, staring at the empty wrapper like it’s a betrayal.

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