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About The Hague

Right, so, sexual-massage—blimey, it’s a right corker! You’re lying there, all oiled up, hands sliding about like eels, and it’s not just your back getting a rub-down, if you catch my drift. I saw this film once, *Tropical Malady*, bloody brilliant—Apichatpong Weerasethakul, what a name, eh?—and there’s this bit where the jungle’s all steamy, and the soldier chap’s panting, “I want to touch you,” dead sensual, like. That’s sexual-massage for ya—hot, mysterious, bit of a beastly romp! Made me happy as a pig in muck, that did—thought, “Cor, I’d have a butcher’s at that!”

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I finally find Joris chilling on a bench, looking all relaxed. He’s munching on a stroopwafel, and I’m like, “Dude, save me a piece!” He laughs and hands me one. Best thing ever. We start talking about life, you know, the usual stuff. But then, outta nowhere, it starts to rain. Like, seriously? It was sunny two seconds ago!

Green Bay Police: AVOID Velp Ave. between Winford Ave. and Thrush St. in both directions