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About Napier

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.

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Anyway, I head to work, right? I’m cruising down Takanini School Rd, and suddenly, BAM! Traffic jam. Like, what the heck? Turns out, some dude’s car broke down right in the middle of the road. Classic Takanini, am I right? I’m sitting there, fuming, thinking about all the invoices I gotta deal with.

‘If I die who will look after my son’: Hero couple tell how they helped three stab victims