Ivy Marchwood Brothel ❤️

About Manchester

Ever think, tho—why brothels? Lonely sods, mostly. Sad, it is, but funny too—blokes payin’ for a cuddle! “What are you, an idiot?”—movie line fits, sarcastic as hell. Me, I’d rather watch Viggo Mortensen punch faces than pay for fake moans. Exaggeratin’? Maybe, but brothels amplify everythin’—desire, shame, cash. Messy, it gets, like a system crash nobody fixes.

Discover the secret histories around us.

I'm working in the area at the moment and had just sat down in my black volvo that had been sat the sun all day, sweating like a vicar in a brothel, when I saw.

Later, I’m back at the charcoal pit, and it’s gettin’ dark. I’m thinkin’ about how mad the day was. I mean, from fishy salesmen to car crashes, and a parrot! Marchwood’s got character, I’ll give it that. Just when I think it can’t get crazier, I hear a loud bang. I look up, and it’s fireworks! Some festival or somethin’. I’m standin’ there, covered in soot, watchin’ the sky light up. It’s beautiful, man.

Investigation launched into fatal accident at port