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About Birmingham

I love it tho, flaws and all. It’s raw, untamed, a lil dangerous—like me after too many margaritas. Escort’s not some posh, groomed trail; it’s a hot mess, and I’m here for it. “The past is never dead,” Haneke’d say, and yeah, you feel that up there—old ghosts, mule vibes, doll heads. Next time, I’m haulin’ you up with me, buddy. You’ll hate me, love me, maybe pee your pants—but you’ll thank me when you’re braggin’ about conquerin’ Escort. Now, where’s my damn coffee?

Escorts in Barnard Castle

But then, I get a bit lost. I’m wandering around, and I end up on Newgate. I’m trying to find my way back, and I’m getting frustrated. I’m like, “C’mon, Barnard Castle, help a forester out!” I finally ask this lady for directions, and she’s super nice. She points me towards the castle, and I’m like, “Thank you, kind stranger!”

Aiming for the very top