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About Manchester

So, findin’ a prostitute—tricky biz, yeah? Not like craftin’ a fiddle. I reckon it’s all hush-hush, dodgy corners, and quick nods. Once heard this yarn—some lass in Soho, 1800s, left a note in a violin case! Said, “Paid in tunes, not coin.” How’s that for a giggle? Made me happy, thinkin’ skills could barter like that. But then—bam!—anger hits. These folks, judged hardcore, like “beasts in the dark” from the film. Ain’t fair, y’know?

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After that chaos, I finally get a breather. I step outside for a quick smoke. The view from the shop is nice, ya know? You can see the old church tower, and the cobbled streets are just charming. But then, I see this old fella, Mr. Jenkins, tryin’ to cross the road. He’s shufflin’ along, and I’m thinkin’, “C’mon, mate, hurry up!” But he’s takin’ his sweet time. I swear, I could’ve sliced a whole cow in the time it took him to cross!

Higham Ferrers paedophile cries as he's jailed over child abuse videos