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About Brussels

Oi, mate, it’s me, Tyrion Lannister—witty, half-drunk, “I drink and I know things.” So, sexual-massage, eh? Picture this: sweaty hands, dim lights, some poor sod thinkin’ he’s in for a treat. I’ve seen brothels in King’s Landing with less tension! It’s all slippery oils, awkward grunts—makes me wanna laugh or puke, depends on the wine. Saw a bloke once, paid double for a “happy ending,” got a cramp instead—priceless! “The future is shit,” like that kid David from *A.I.* said, chasin’ dreams that ain’t real. Sexual-massage? Same vibe—hype’s bigger than the payoff.