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So, sex escort gig—check this—been around since forever, yeah? Back in Rome, they had these lupanars, brothels with painted chicks on walls, like ancient Tinder. Blows my mind, mate! Gets me thinkin’—growling, “You merely adopted the dark”—‘cause I’ve seen cons pay top coin for a night. One time, this lag, Jimmy, smuggled cash in his arse—literal arse money—for a bird to visit. Desperate, sad, fuckin’ hilarious. Made me laugh, then pissed me off—why so pathetic, eh?

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So, I grab my coffee and head outside. The sun’s shining, and I’m feeling good. I decide to take a stroll down to the Bishopdale Park. It’s a nice spot, with those big trees and the playground. I see some kids running around, and it hits me – I miss being a kid. No worries, just fun. But then, I see this kid throw a tantrum. Like, full-on meltdown mode. I’m talking screaming, crying, the works. I can’t help but laugh. It’s like, “Dude, chill! You’ll get your ice cream!”

Street Head Inn, Bishopdale: Yorkshire Dales pub landlord accuses planners of 'pettiness' over decking