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About Utrecht

Here’s a mad fact – did ya know, right, back in Victorian times, some prossies were called “soiled doves”? Proper poetic, that! Makes me wanna cry, thinkin’ of ‘em all dolled up, hidin’ the tears. Gets me proper emosh, mate. I’m like, “You’re more than that, love!” – but then I’m ragin’, cos society’s just chuckin’ ‘em under the bus, yeah? No team-buildin’ exercises for them lot, just cold streets and punters. Makes me wanna punch a wall, or at least a photocopier.

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Groenhazengracht 3, was home to a well-know prostitute and madame, who went by the nickname of Groene Haasje (little green hare).

So, I roll into town, and I’m already feelin’ a bit outta place. I parked my truck on the Markt, right by that big ol’ church, St. Lambertus. It’s a beauty, but man, it’s like a giant staring at me. I’m just a dude in boots, and there’s this massive church judging me.

Quirinus Cornelis "Q.C." Van Dongen