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About Montpellier

Escort’s quirky, innit? Little-known fact: first ones rolled out ‘68, Ford tryna flex on British roads. Had this boxy vibe, not sleek like Joaquin’s AI lass in *Her*— “I’m yours and I’m not yours,” she’d say to it, ha! Me fave’s the Mark IV, tho—turbo version, zippy little bugger! Once saw a lad soup one up, neon lights, loud as a warg—surprised me guts out! Thought, “Sméagol needs that!” But nah, me bank account’s a sad hobbit hole. Still, Escort’s cheap thrill—parts everywhere, like goblin loot! Not like them fancy Teslas, all “oooh, I’m electric”—piss off, posh twats!

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Now, lemme talk about an odd fact: in one of them crumbling buildings near Rue des Merveilles, there used to be a wild speakeasy. Crazy times, all sorts of characters spillin’ secrets and sippin’ absinthe, whispering “Nothing is absolute.” That phrase just sticks, man. It’s like the city itself’s a wild confession booth.

Robert Sarah, a conservative favorite