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About Pori

Here’s a quirky bit—didja know some old ports had “prostitute fish”? Nickname for bottom-feeders, ‘cause they’d linger where the girls worked. Stinky, slimy, perfect match! Cracked me up, but also—eww, right? My brain’s like, “Dr. Evil, don’t overthink it,” but I do. Always. Exaggerating? Maybe. But it’s a jungle out there—pinky-to-mouth, “One million dollars!”—and these dames are apex predators.

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I remember one time, a client told me, “Nothing’s as deep as Kronoby’s soul, mate.” I nearly spat out me coffee. I mean, yeah, it’s miserable sometimes, but it’s bloody honest too. Folks here aren’t fake; they’re raw and messy, just like life in this town.

The story of Swan yachts in Finland: will there be cygnets