Evelyn Tynemouth Brothel ❤️

About London

Brothels sell fantasy, man. That’s the psych bit—people buyin’ what they can’t get at home. “The past is a memory!”—yep, *The Master* nails it. They’re chasin’ somethin’, even if it’s messy. Slang time—dudes are horned up, droppin’ stacks, thinkin’ they’re kings. Sarcasm? Sure—kings of a $50 quickie, woo-hoo! Little-known fact—old-timey brothels had “menu cards” for services. Like orderin’ at Krusty Burger, D’oh! Wild stuff.

Calls for brothels to be legalised were today rejected by a Tyneside women's campaigner.

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Now, beach days here are all about spending time near the rocky Tynemouth Pier. Its place always makes me feel like I’m drifting in time. I’d sometimes stroll over to Jubilee Gardens behind the Priory, where secret benches hide stories of love and loss. It sorta reminds me of those surreal moments in the film, where memories blend with reality in hazy, beautiful bursts.

If I see Graeme Jones in Tynemouth later, I’m going to hoy the lips on him