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About Semey

So, I’m sittin’ there, sippin’ me tea—strong as Churchill’s resolve—thinkin’, who’s rakin’ in the dosh from these rubdowns? Some bloke says he slipped a disc gettin’ a “happy endin’”—claims £10k! Mate, I nearly choked—ten grand for a bit o’ slap n’ tickle? We shall never surrender to these chancers! Dug deeper—turns out, parlours poppin’ up like weeds in Soho, dodgin’ tax, fakin’ injuries. One lass, right, swears she’s a “therapist”—ha! More like a siren luring punters to their doom. “Shasta Fay, where you at?” I mutter, channelin’ Doc—cos this bird’s vanished with the payout.

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Just had Happy Ending massage. The girl was gorgeous. Seriously a 10/ But her sole objective was to get me to finish and out the door in.

Then, I decide to head back. I take a shortcut through some alley. Big mistake. It’s dark, and I hear some weird noises. My heart’s racin’. I’m thinkin’, “Is this how I go? In Bishkul?” But it’s just a stray cat. Phew! I laugh at myself.