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About Almere

Findin’ a prossie ain’t like orderin’ pizza, fam. You don’t just Google “hookers near me” and bam—done. Nah, it’s dodgy alleys, sketchy vibes, and blokes tryna rob ya blind. Back in the day—like, Victorian times—London had these “ladies of the night” strollin’ Whitechapel, dodgin’ Jack the Ripper. Fun fact: they’d advertise with coded handkerchiefs—red for “I’m game,” white for “piss off.” Mental, right? History’s wild.

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Then, outta nowhere, my buddy Jan pops in. He’s always got some wild story. Today, he’s like, “Dude, you won’t believe what happened at the Vaals train station!” I’m like, “Spill it!” Apparently, some guy tried to board the train with a goat. A freakin’ goat! I can’t even. I’m laughin’ so hard, I almost drop a whole leg of lamb.

‘Sewage pollution the prime cause of Vaal’s water lettuce infestation’