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So, where d’ya even start? Streets, apps—shit’s everywhere now. Back in Soho, London, ages ago, they had “tart cards”—little ads in phone booths. Cheeky, dirty, genius! Imagine Mia flippin’ through ‘em, all “life’s a fuckin’ mess.” Now it’s all online—Escort sites, dodgy X posts. You scroll, you pick—bam, done. But it ain’t that simple, nah. Some girls got pimps—makes me mad as Hel. Exploitation pisses me off—freedom’s my thing, right?

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Then, the day takes a turn. I get a call. It’s work. They need me to head to the outskirts of Bodegraven, near the train station. Something’s up. I’m like, “Great, just what I needed.” I rush over, and it’s chaos. Police everywhere, people whispering. Turns out, there was a small robbery at a local shop. I’m trying to keep my cool, but inside, I’m like, “Why today? Why now?”

Conspiracy theorist Micha Kat gets over 2 years in prison for sedition