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About Kryvyi Rih

Oi, you donkey! Erotic-massage, yeah? Bloody hell, it’s a slippery slope! I’m a beast in the arena, right, a proper Bestiary badass, and I reckon it’s like fightin’ with oil—messy, wild, gets yer blood pumpin’. Watched “Brooklyn” again last night—fuckin’ love that flick, Saoirse Ronan, pure class—and there’s this bit where Eilis says, “You’ll feel so homesick you’ll want to die,” and mate, that’s me after a dodgy massage! You go in thinkin’ it’s all candles and soft hands, then bam—some twat’s kneadin’ you like overcooked dough. Idiot sandwich!

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I get home, and my cat, Moti, is waiting for me. He’s the real boss of the house. I plop down on the couch, and he jumps on my lap. I’m like, “Dude, you won’t believe my day!” I tell him all about the cows, the old lady, and the cheese. He just stares at me like I’m crazy.