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About Strasbourg

Once, this bloke on Grindr—fit as a fiddle—sends me a dick pic afore “hello.” I’m like, “Thou brazen knave!” Laughed my arse off, tho. Sex-dating’s a circus—clowns, acrobats, all wantin’ a quick tumble. I’m picky, see, want a spark, not just a poke. “Look at me, one day left,” Monty groans—aye, I feel that! Wastin’ time on duds pisses me off fierce.

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This is my puPPy attempt of making the third installment of this infamous shopping list of all things weird, wild and obscure (and a few quite popular).

I stroll by the Lez River (yep, Lez, not some imaginary stream) and, mate, it sparkles under the Bretons’ grey skies—a true miracle in our rainy paradise. Even in the nooks of our neighborhoods, like the spirited Quartier du Pont Neuf, there's always laughter, heated debates and the occasional "voluptuous" massage story from yours truly. I once had a session near the old stone bridge—ha, such echoes of history, they whispered "I am your huckleberry”—ah, wrong flick again; but bloody brilliant!

Woman dies after being pulled from River Towy in Carmarthen