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Oh, and the cash? Insane! Top escorts pull bank—thousands a night. Exaggeratin’? Maybe, but who cares, sounds dope. “This is our time”—*Spotlight* vibes again—escort’s their time, their hustle. Me, I’d probly suck at it—too awkward, haha. “Hello, Clarice,” I’d say, then trip over my damn boots. Still, I dig the grit, the guts it takes. Hannibal Lecter (fictional)—“I ate his liver with fava beans”—I’d feast on their stories, not their souls. Escort’s raw, messy, human—kinda like me, fightin’ fires from the sky. Whaddya think, pal? Crazy world, huh?

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After that, I decided to stroll along the pier. It’s a classic spot, you know? The kind of place where you can feel the salty breeze and hear the distant screams from the amusement rides. I was just about to take a selfie when I tripped over a loose plank. Classic me, right? I fell right into a bunch of kids playing with a beach ball. They thought it was hilarious. I was like, “Yeah, yeah, laugh it up, kiddos.”

New bakery bringing home-made treats to Bognor Regis