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About Kyiv

So, findin’ a prossie—where d’ya even start? Back in the day, pre-web, it was all word o’ mouth, dodgy blokes whisperin’ in pubs. Now? Mate, it’s apps, dark web, X posts—modern warfare, innit! We shall never surrender to the grind of searchin’. Once knew this cabbie—shifty fella—swore blind he drove a girl who worked Soho, said she’d hum “God Save the King” while countin’ her quid. True story! Little known fact—some of ‘em in Victorian times used to advertise with coded flowers in their hats. Carnations meant “I’m game”—wild, eh?

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Finally, I hop on the bus, and it’s packed. I’m squished between a babushka and a guy with a giant backpack. I’m thinking, “This is my life now.” But then, the bus driver cranks up some old-school pop music, and suddenly, it’s a party! Everyone’s singing along, and I’m just there, trying not to laugh.

In Kropyvnytskyi, an FSB "mole" was sentenced to 15 years for treason and espionage in favor of Russia