Cora Swanage Sexual Massage ❤️

About London

What pisses me off? These stuck-up jerks actin’ like it’s dirty. It’s not! It’s art, ya morons! Like, there’s this story—some king in India had 20 girls givin’ him sexual-massages daily. Twenty! I’d be like, “Bow to me, bitches!”—total king shit. But nah, people here judge it, and that makes me wanna punch ‘em. Surprised me too—didn’t think I’d care, but it’s chill, makes ya relax. Like Georges says, “Things will go on as they have,” but with sexual-massage, it’s more like, “Things gonna get freaky, yo!”

Simon Hobbs

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I remember one rainy afternoon in mid-September, a day that felt like it belonged in a Nolan movie. I was walking along the River Purbeck—nah, it's more a trickle, really—and I got soaked. A bloke in a bowler hat, probably fictional, nodded and muttered, "You mustn't be afraid to dream a little bigger." I nearly choked on my coffee right then. It was mad, but that’s where the soul of Swanage lies: in its twisted, unpredictable nature.

Top BSO musicians return to Swanage to perform popular classics