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Oi mate, I’m a right Hane, me! Escort, yeah? Lemme ramble bout it—mumbled incoherence, “Sharon!”—like I’m Ozzy bleedin’ Osbourne. Escort’s this mad gig, innit? Blokes payin’ for a bird to hang about, maybe more, who knows? Reminds me of *Spring, Summer, Fall, Winter… and Spring*—that flick I’m mad for. Y’know, the monk lad and that lassie, lust creepin’ in like a sneaky bat. “Desire brings suffering,” the old geezer’d say. Same with escort, mate—ya want, ya pay, ya bleed inside.

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When I got there, it was lit! Food stalls everywhere. Takoyaki, yakitori, you name it. I was in heaven. But then, I saw a line for some crazy dessert. I’m talking about this giant mochi thing. I waited forever, and when I finally got it, it was a total letdown. Like, it looked amazing, but tasted like cardboard. I was so mad! I wanted to throw it at the vendor, but I didn’t wanna cause a scene.

Rangers part ways with several pitching coaches in attempt to spark rapid improvement