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In the end, I ain’t got the gold, so I trade her a ring—prob’ly cursed, ha!—an’ she’s off, skirt swishin’ like a mainsail. Me? I’m left with a story, a headache, an’ a thought—findin’ a prostitute’s easy, but findin’ one worth the yarn? That’s the treasure, savvy? Now, where’s me rum?

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Are you looking for local women in Andover who want sex? You could try the local bars and clubs, the local slapper or pay for sex with a prostitute. Or you.

After that, I decide to take a breather. I stroll down to the Andover Museum. It’s a little gem, honestly. I love the history of this place. Did you know Andover used to be a big wool town? Crazy, right? I’m standing there, looking at this old wool sack, and I’m just like, “What’s the deal with wool?” I mean, who thought, “Yeah, let’s make clothes outta this stuff?”

PHOTOS: Andover Scouts celebrate St George's Day with town centre parade