I'm already starting to hate this bloody island, it takes three hours to go through customs and that's worse than JFK Airport in New York City. Then it takes another two hours to get my rental car since people are rather lazy and incompetent here. What do I get for a car (or as they say here 'auto')? A Renault "Le Car." Le Crap is more like it, a piece of shit that was gotten rid of 20 years ago back on the other side of the Atlantic. To make matters worse the car had hardly any gas! I waited for a god damn two hours and these assholes didn't bother to fill up the tank. So I had to get some 'petrol' which is ridiculously high here, due to all the taxes that are put on it. I have no problems with taxes IF the money was used properly but the fact is that this country looks, feels and runs like it's only a recession away from being a Third World country, I don't understand where's the money going.   

God I want to leave this country as fast as I can, Cape Breton looks more developed than this pathetic country. The one bright side is that my friend Jim Fenner offered me a place to stay while I'm here, so I'm gonna take advantage of it. I'm also trying to get adjusted to driving on the left and watching for those stupid speed checks that are around the motorway (their term for highway).   

When I finally got to Jim's house in West London, I always hated the fact that you have to pay parking here or pretty much everywhere in London! So I finally got to the house and knocked on the door.   

"Hey mate, it's good to see you again!" Jim said with excitement.   

"Same here."   

I met Jim the last time I came here. I was actually working for Yvonne Atkins, during that time she was serving time in Larkhall. She got news that someone was extorting her girls, so she wanted me to see who was extorting them. I found out that Jim was behind this and that he was a Prison Officer (PO) at Larkhall, so when I met him at one of the bars (or pubs as they say here) we fought. He was a better fighter than I thought but I still won and when I was about to kill him he told me he could be of help to me. He had strong connections with the Police, Scotland Yards, politicians, and lot of other important people. With his connections I was able to find Margaret Thacher and kill that bitch once and for all. It was just the usual when we meet, we talk a lot of shit while we drink our beer (or as they say 'pints').