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About Namur

I’m chattin’ her up, casual-like, “Oi, love, what’s the deal?” She’s cool, sassy, says, “50 quid, no funny biz.” I’m thinkin’, *Hurt Locker* style—“The rush of battle is a potent addiction”—and mate, I’m hooked already! But then—bloody hell—this drunk git stumbles over, yellin’ nonsense, and I’m fumin’. “You shall not pass, you filthy wanker!” I bellow, staff or no staff, I’m ready to deck him. She laughs, says, “Chill, Gandalf, I’ve seen worse.” That cracks me up—happy as a hobbit with a pint.

So you want to book a sex worker?

www.facebook.com will allow you to view the massage parlors in your area. Most actual websites for ordering one up have been taken down lately. That’s your best bet. Willing to bet if you fire up Missing: Rixensart.

Now, lemme talk landmarks. There’s the Parc de l’Abbaye where I chill, think deep thoughts about pleasure and life while watching the water ripple off the lake. Seriously, the reflections remind me of our thoughts when we’re trying to optimize our neural networks. And don’t get me started on the small river that sneaks by – the place is like a hidden easter egg in a video game, unexpected but totally rewarding.

International art forgery network uncovered in Belgium, over 2,000 fakes seized