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But the stench, mate! Piss and cheap perfume—grim as fuck. You’d gag, swear down. “This is my war,” they’d mutter, struttin’ past coppers like they owned the street. Some punters, though—fuckin’ creeps. Saw one once, hagglin’ like it’s a car boot sale. “Twenty’s my max!” he yells. She’s like, “Piss off, I’m not Aldi!” Laughed my arse off, but it’s sad too, innit? Desperation’s a bastard.

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First stop? The local market. It’s a maze of colors and sounds. I’m dodging people left and right, trying not to spill my coffee. I mean, c’mon, I need that caffeine fix! I bump into this old lady, and she gives me the dirtiest look. Like, chill, lady! I’m just trying to get my day started.