I come from a depressing, end-of-the-line town called Clacton-on-Sea. You probably stayed there in a caravan once, but had the fortune to leave after a long rainy weekend. Not me, I was stuck there, with just candyfloss and those two-penny machines to see me through to 18.
Now, I’m allowed to say what I like about Clacton. But if any outsider ever dares do the same, they’ll have me to deal with. (Not much admittedly, but it sounds threatening.) Which brings me (and stick with me on this one) to referral fees.