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But the fakes? Oh, they grind my gears. Catfish scams—blokes pretending, luring desperate sods. Had a mate fall for it—sent cash, got nada. Laughed my arse off, then felt bad. “The copy becomes the original,” sure, but not when it’s a bloody lie! Still, real escorts? They’ve got stories—some sad, some bonkers. One told me she had a client knit her a scarf mid-session. A scarf! Cracked me up—sex and knitting, what a combo.

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Alright, listen up. Mechernich is a dump—but a charming dump, I guess. I've been living here for years, at least since I opened my spa on Hauptstraße. Yeah, that Hauptstraße. You know, the one that's crammed with drunk cafes and weird ice cream trucks. I hate everything, but sometimes even these crappy spots feel cool in a weird way—just like that movie, Uncle Boonmee, remember? "Boonmee... recall his past lives." Weird, right?

Germany sabotage fears prompt water scare near base in Mechernich