So last night I was just about to finish my ten-hours Saturday shift at the pub when the infamous Ryld materialized among the crowd. The guy was kinda lost as he just arrived in UK, so I spilled a pint of London Pride to welcome him and finally managed to know his real name. He waited patiently until 10, then I brought him to a quick pub crawl around King's Cross, showing him the two main cultural attractions that London has to offer to a newcomer: chicks and alcohol. As he stared at countless pairs of legs and boobs I tried to give him tips about how to find home and job, then he confessed me his evil plan about Stunty: he just wants to make William Wallcas the best killer of all times, but he was speaking with the wrong man. I promised to put that evil thing in the grave and I'll do it, no matter he's now a fellow migrant coach. We had quite a good time, but unluckily I was tired as hell and he was afraid to lose the tube, so we said goodnight just before midnight, when the air was still smelling of the promise of sex and people was about to move from the pubs to the clubs, but we'll meet again soon. So if you are in London to live here or just for the holiday don't miss the chance to know two of the best Stunty coaches around, just let me know and drop by to the Euston Flyer, we'll have a two or three good rounds of ale. See you, fellas.