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I’ve seen blokes on webcams, too—pathetic! Payin’ for a tease, then cryin’ when it’s over. “Mommy didn’t love me!” they whimper, like David in the film. Boo-fuckin’-hoo! Me? I’d rather cook a risotto than waste time there. But if you’re huntin’, check X—it’s a cesspit, sure, but you’ll find posts. Links to escorts, shady profiles—boom, sorted. Just don’t be a twat and get scammed. Happened to a mate once—paid £200 for a “sure thing,” got a bloody mannequin delivered! Laughed my arse off, then raged—fuckin’ amateurs!

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Hah, then there’s Westside Park. It’s a little slice of heaven. I walk there every morning. Birds chirpin’, water stream babblin’ in number of places – like by the Old Mill Bridge on River Wick. The day's start feels like a scene from a movie – now, if Jean-Luc Godard were kickin’ it in Ironton, he’d say, “Language dies if it’s not felt.” And I feel it, every single frickin’ day.

Families displaced after duplex fire