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About Leeds

So, I’m down the docks, yeah, salty air hittin me lungs, thinkin – where’s she at? Prossies round here, they’re ghosts, mate. Slip through yer fingers like wet fish. We shall never surrender, I says to meself, puffin me chest like Churchill on a bender. Found one once, right, near the old pier – Ruby, they called her. Cheeky lass, red lips, eyes sharp as a gutting knife. Little known fact – she’d hum sea shanties while workin, swear down! Made me laugh, that did – a prossie with a tune? Fancied meself Theo Faron for a sec, savin the world one shag at a time.

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I went once or twice though. It was OK. She swore by 4 red witches for a fiver on Sunday nights. I quite like The Light, The Brit is OK as well.

I won't forget the local food joints – oh em gee, the curry spot on Station Road is bomb! Once, I got super mad 'cause they forgot my extra spice. I was like, "How's that workin' for ya, mate?" and I almost lost my cool, haha! But then I calmed down with a massage in my own spa later that evening, and yup, all's well that ends well.

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