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About London

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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Hey, mate, let me tell ya 'bout Watton, UK. It's a quirky town, y'know? I been here for years runnin' my massage joint – yep, massages, relaxin' souls. Watton is small but fulla surprises. Think Watton High Street – it's lively, chill, a bit gritty sometimes, but damn, it's got character. One more thing… it's like a scene from Spirited Away – "I finally get a bath!" kinda vibe.

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