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About Leeds

Oi mate, me, Mr. Bean, y’know, bumbling fool—hrrrmph—talkin’ bout sex escorts today! Ratcatcher, eh? Sniffin’ out dirty bits, hehe! So, sex escort, right—fancy ladies, or blokes, sellin’ a shag for cash. Wotcha think? Me, I’m all—oops!—trippin’ over me trousers just thinkin’ it! Watched “City of God” again last night—bloody brilliant, innit? That line, “You need more’n guts to be a good gangster,” pops in me head. Escorts, they got guts, mate! Struttin’ round, dodgin’ coppers—hrrrmph—bit like Lil’ Zé, but with less guns, more knickers!

Two Romanians who told police they were sex workers walk free from court

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First off, I hit up the local café on the corner of Broomhill Road. You know, the one with the weirdly named pastries? I ordered a “Portlethen Puff” or whatever. It was basically a glorified croissant. But hey, carbs are life, am I right? I sat there, sipping my coffee, and people-watching. There’s this old dude who always sits by the window. He’s got this epic beard, like a wizard or something. I swear he’s seen it all.

Portlethen father and son put horror accident behind them in world’s toughest footrace