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About Bordeaux

Oi mate, blimey, sexual-massage, eh? What a bloomin’ topic! Me, Boris, your ol’ pal, ramblin’ on like a toff at a tea party. Right, so, sexual-massage – it’s a bit of a cheeky rub-down, innit? Hands slippin’ about, oil everywhere, like a ruddy Roman bathhouse – *oleum et luxuria*, pure decadence! Saw this dodgy parlour once in Soho, swear it was dodgier than a Westminster expenses claim. Made me chuckle, it did – “massage with a wink,” they called it. Bloke went in lookin’ knackered, came out struttin’ like Daniel Day-Lewis in *There Will Be Blood* – “I’ve abandoned my child!” he’d bellow, only it was his wallet he’d left behind, ha!

Centre de santé

I try not to overthink when out on the streets; I just vibe. I sometimes chat up random passersby. “Hey, how’s life?” and they answer, and I listen. It’s like always watching life’s movie – gritty yet smooth like Tarantino’s script. I almost laugh thinking, “Now that’s some real dialogue!”, y’know?

How Titanic Changed Director Xavier Dolan’s Life