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About The Hague

Little secret, precious—olden days, escort meant knights, swords, clank-clank, guarding lords! Now? It’s all “how much, love?” and fake smiles. Me mate Dave, he swore an escort nicked his radio kit—bloody cheek! Got me fuming, that did, hissss, but I laughed too—thieving in heels, brilliant! Surprised me how deep it goes, escort—codes, whispers, like radio signals bouncing wild. “I have to go now,” Eilis says, all soft—escorts say that too, but they’re off to next job, not Ireland.

Escort Voorschoten

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So, I’m walking down the street, and I pass by the Voorschoten train station. It’s a cute little spot, but man, it was packed! Everyone and their grandma was there. I swear, I saw a dude in a bright orange jacket. Like, who wears that? Anyway, I’m trying to get to my first appointment, and the train’s late. Of course. I’m standing there, tapping my foot, getting angrier by the second.

€30,000 fine for municipality of Voorschoten