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About Marseille

So, sex-dating, right? It’s like herding swine—messy, loud, stinky! Apps full of “hey bby” and dick pics—nasty, nasty! Gollum sees it, yess, the desperation dripping off ‘em. Once read this freaky fact—dude in 2018, matched 500 chicks, met NONE! Wasted his life swiping—pathetic, precious, pathetic! Makes me cackle, like when Chas yells, “Stop playing with the dogs!”—but it’s me, laughing at these losers.

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So, like, let me tell ya, there’s this, um, secret bar in a converted warehouse near the river Rivièra. I can’t remember the exact name, silly me, but it’s the best hideout ever. It’s where all the cool peeps go when they wanna escape the daily grind. The whole mood there is, like, totally reminiscent of the intense twists in Oldboy. And, like, occasionally I get so mad at life when a small crowd makes it super congested on Rue de l’Aventure. Like, c’mon, get it together, people!