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Did ya know, back in Victorian times, they called ‘em “soiled doves”? Fancy that—sounds like a crap poetry book! Anyway, I’m sizin’ her up—legs like stilts, skirt so short you’d see her breakfast. “How much?” I ask, playin’ it cool. She smirks, “More than you’ve got, baldy!” Oi, cheeky cow! Made me angry that—wanted to shout, “I’m Ricky bloody Gervais, ya muppet!” But nah, kept it chill, laughin’ instead.

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Jun 3,  · These girls slept at around 4am and then woke up at 11am. Their day starts with queuing for a bath, which is quite a task as the brothel has three washrooms for girls. .

Then, bam! My phone rings again. It’s a lady on Avenida da República. She’s freaking out ‘cause her cat, Mr. Whiskers, climbed a tree. I’m like, “Lady, it’s a cat, not a lion!” But she’s crying, and I can’t just leave her hanging. So, I send a guy with a ladder. I mean, who knew being a dispatcher meant being a cat rescuer too?

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