Zainstaluj Steam
zaloguj się
|
język
简体中文 (chiński uproszczony)
繁體中文 (chiński tradycyjny)
日本語 (japoński)
한국어 (koreański)
ไทย (tajski)
български (bułgarski)
Čeština (czeski)
Dansk (duński)
Deutsch (niemiecki)
English (angielski)
Español – España (hiszpański)
Español – Latinoamérica (hiszpański latynoamerykański)
Ελληνικά (grecki)
Français (francuski)
Italiano (włoski)
Bahasa Indonesia (indonezyjski)
Magyar (węgierski)
Nederlands (niderlandzki)
Norsk (norweski)
Português (portugalski – Portugalia)
Português – Brasil (portugalski brazylijski)
Română (rumuński)
Русский (rosyjski)
Suomi (fiński)
Svenska (szwedzki)
Türkçe (turecki)
Tiếng Việt (wietnamski)
Українська (ukraiński)
Zgłoś problem z tłumaczeniem
But man got too gassed. Tryna go 12 deep, innit. Some nosy wasteman at da polling booth clocked his squint, an’ next ting ya know, feds chasin’ him through "the Wilderness of The United Kingdom (Great Britain)", man still holdin’ his pint.
Now Sarnando’s locked up, still gassin’, "Bruv, I only voted once… eleven times." Mandem still rate him, though.
xXx - Your not-so Secret Secret Admirerer
One evening, in a dimly lit pub, he overheard a heated debate about the referendum. A man slammed his pint down. "If only a few votes had gone the other way!" Sarnando winced. He had been more than "a few."
Determined to make amends, he hatched a new plan—not of deception, but redemption. He would travel the country, undoing division where he could. It was an impossible task, but then again, impossible tasks were his specialty.
But as the consequences of Brexit unfolded—dividing communities and leaving a trail of regret—each alias became a stark reminder of his mistake. Now, haunted by the fallout of his actions, Sarnando realized that even clever subterfuge couldn't undo the harm done.