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About Leeds

Last week, prowlin downtown, saw this chick—red heels, smokin a cig. Looked tired, but tough, ya feel? “Where’s the love gone?” I growl, quotin Malick. She didn’t hear, just winked. Surprised me—thought she’d run from a big ol Wookiee! Rarrgh! Made me laugh, tho—imagine me, Chewie, hirin a prozzie? Han’d lose his shit, man. “Quiet flows the river,” I mutter, watchin her strut. Deep stuff, right?

Escorts Coleraine BT52

But then, things took a turn. I’m floatin’ past the old railway station, and I see this fella, right? He’s tryin’ to fish, but his line’s all tangled. I’m thinkin’, “Poor bloke.” So, I paddle over, offer a hand. Turns out, he’s from Belfast, just tryin’ to catch a trout. We get to chattin’, and he’s tellin’ me about the best spots in Coleraine. I’m like, “Mate, I’m the raftsman! I know all the spots!”

Coleraine man Stephen doesn’t let stroke stop him