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Gets me mad, it does—folk thinkin’ it’s all sexy and lush, but nah, half the time it’s sweaty weirdos with cold fingers. We hates it! “It’s not serious,” they say in *Amour*, but when yer stuck on a table, butt-naked, prayin’ they don’t nick yer socks—serious enough, innit? Once tried it meself—thought, “Gollum, treat yerself!”—big mistake, precious. Lass kept yammerin’ bout me “tension,” like I ain’t tense from livin’ in caves! Smelt like cheap lotion, made me sneeze—achoo!—oil everywhere, slipped right off the table, landed on me arse. Laughed meself sick after, though—proper numpty moment.

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Sexual massage, Golden Shower (give) for extra charge, Striptease, Sex in Different Positions, Striptease.

Anyway, I finally got my coffee and dashed to work. The traffic on Avenue de la Libération was a nightmare. Bumper to bumper, like a bad dream. I swear, I saw a guy in a red car yelling at a pigeon. A pigeon! Like, dude, it’s not the bird’s fault you’re stuck in traffic. Chill out!

19 voters quash Muslim-run cemetery in Saint-Apollinaire, Que.