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About Fukuoka

Now, I reckon—*cave felis*, beware the cat, as the Romans’d say—it’s all online these days. Websites, apps, dodgy X posts—blimey, it’s a jungle! Saw one profile, right, lass called herself “Duchess of Soho”—cheeky, that! Made me laugh, then mad as a hatter—why’s it gotta be so shady? Could be simpler, like buyin’ a pint. But nope, you’re dodgin’ coppers, weirdos, and your own bloomin’ conscience.

So you want to book a sex worker?

How do sex workers feel about clients coming to their own home for incalls? It's something I am considering and would like thoughts and.

Then, I hit up the Ome Railway Park. It’s this cool spot with old trains and stuff. I’m snapping pics, feeling all nostalgic. I mean, who doesn’t love a good train? But then, I trip over my own feet. Classic me. I fall right into a bush. I’m laughing and cursing at the same time. “Great, now I’m a bush person,” I mutter.

Dany Ome melts hearts on social media after being made up by his young daughter: "I miss my nights out at the club."