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About The Hague

So, I’m lyin’ there, right, thinkin’—gods, this is nice. Better than wine, almost. The masseuse—let’s call her Sybil—knows tricks I didn’t even dream of. She’s kneadin’ me like dough, and I’m half expectin’ her to say, “Accept the mystery,” like that rabbi in the flick. But nah, she’s quiet—too quiet. Makes me paranoid. Is she judgin’ me? My hairy arse? My stubby legs? Piss off, I think—then she hits this spot, and I’m groanin’ like a hog in heat. Happy? Oh, mate, I’m bloody ecstatic.

Exploring Unknown Horizons

While I’m wrestling with the engine, I hear this loud honking. I look up, and it’s a bunch of kids on bikes, laughing their heads off. I’m like, “What’s so funny, huh?” They just point at me, and I’m thinking, “Yeah, yeah, laugh it up, kiddos. One day, you’ll be stuck in a tractor too!” But deep down, I’m kinda chuckling too. Kids are hilarious.

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