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About Marseille

So, I tried it once—yep, lil’ ol’ me! Got this fella rubbin’ oil like he’s polishin’ a Cadillac. Felt so good I hollered, “Well, slap my ass and call me sassy!” Made me happy as a pig in mud, but lord, the price? Nearly choked me—$100 for 30 minutes? I was madder’n a wet hen! Coulda bought me a new wig! But them hands—ooh, they knew tricks. Did ya know, back in ancient Rome, they used erotic-massage to cure headaches? Bet them senators was grinnin’ like fools!

Éducation et loisirs

The town center is a mishmash of old stone stomping and modern f*ckery. There’s Parc du Château, a lush green bastion. People go there for a breather – if you’re not an idiot sandwich gawkin’ at your phone, that is. I love sittin’ there, just soaking in the vibes, lettin’ the natural beauty wash over me, like Terrence Malick whisperin’ sweet nature secrets into my ear.

Allan Saint-Maximin: The only reason to watch Newcastle before today…