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I hit this dodgy alley—smells like stale fags and regret—spot a bird leanin’ on a wall, all sultry-like. “Groovy, baby!” I say, flashin’ me pearly whites. She’s givin’ me the eye, and I’m thinkin’, “This is it, the kill shot!”—straight outta Zero Dark Thirty, y’know? But then—bam!—some geezer stumbles out, drunk as a skunk, yellin’, “Oi, she’s mine!” Made me mad as a wet hen—nearly lost me cool, mate! I’m like, “Cool it, daddy-o, plenty of fish in the sea!”

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We decide to hit the pub later. The Queen’s Head is our spot. Classic place. We grab a pint, and the vibe is chill. But then, this group of lads comes in, and they’re loud. Like, really loud. I’m trying to enjoy my drink, but they’re shouting about football. I’m not even into footie, but I can’t escape it.

KFC Cowplain permanently closed having been open in the area for decades