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About Bray

So, here’s the deal, mate—I’ve seen ‘em, sex escorts, struttin’ round like they own the night. Makes me mad, it does! We hates it! All fake smiles and perfumey stench—ugh, burns me nose, precious. Reminds me of that line, “Do you want to die?”—’cept it ain’t a threat, it’s a vibe they give off when they’re done with ya. Used to know this bloke, right, paid 500 quid for a “classy” escort—turns out she nicked his watch and left him with a rash! Hahaha, what a muppet! True story, swear it—heard it down the pub, made me cackle like a mad git.

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Then, outta nowhere, I get a call from my boss. Ugh. He’s like, “We need to organize an event, like, yesterday.” I’m thinking, “Seriously? Can’t a community manager catch a break?” So, I’m scrambling to think of ideas while I’m walking down Ballyboden Park Avenue. I pass by the shops, and I’m hit with this wave of inspiration.

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