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But lemme tell ya, it ain’t all giggles. Some nights, you’re pissed—dudes hagglin’ like she’s a flea market rug. Makes me wanna yell, “Great Scott, have some respect!” Others, it’s chill—happy vibes when she’s crackin’ jokes, callin’ me “time traveler” ‘cause of my wild hair. Ha! Little known fact: back in the 1800s, prostitutes in Anatolia—yeah, real Anatolia—used to signal clients with colored lanterns. Red for go, blue for nah. History’s wild, man!

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Ah, my dear, listen up. Moorslede is a curious damn place. I’ve been here for years, shtum in my little massage joint off Molenstraat. It’s a town that grinds you down, yet you learn its secrets. Naughty, full of quirks, kinda like me. I stroll down Kasteelstraat, where old stones murmur like ghosts. Yeah, ghosts of massages past… you never know what you’ll find behind every locked door.

From ‘Dirty Sauce’ to ‘Money Grab’: Heated Debate on Severance Pay in Moorslede