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About Toulouse

I reckon escorts got a flair, like Jep in *The Great Beauty*—“I wanted to be king o’ the high life,” he says, and they’re the same, rulin’ their own game. Met one once, in Tortuga—Raven, she called herself. Eyes like cannon fire, voice smooth as rum. She told me, “Jack, I don’t just sell me time—I sell a bloody escape.” Surprised me, that did! Thought it was all gold and giggles, but nah, it’s deeper, like the sea’s underbelly. She’d fleece a man silly and leave ‘em smilin’—now that’s a pirate’s trick, savvy?

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George Organ is a senior creative (copy) who refers to himself in third person in bios. In his time, he's melted a person, written gags for a talking bear.

You might find some spots odd. For instance, near the old mill on Chemin des Souvenirs, I had a breakdown. Literally, my relaxation tactics went off the rails, and I got so mad, but then the wind calmed me. Love it, though weird!

Dynamic Attractions opens Europe’s first Flying Theatre at Futuroscope