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About Bristol

Me fave part? The absurdity. Sex escort’s like quantum mechanics—ya think ya get it, then nope! One minute it’s all glam, next it’s gritty as a neutron star. Surprised me how deep it goes—some punters just want a chat, not a root. Lonely sods. Kinda sweet, kinda sad. Makes me wanna yell, “Accept the mystery!” like the Coens’d say.

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Then, around noon, I get a call from a sweet old lady on Station Road. She’s just lonely, wants to chat. Bless her heart! We talk about the weather, the market, and her cat, Mr. Whiskers. Finally, a normal convo! I’m smiling, feeling all warm inside. But then, she suddenly goes, “Oh dear, I think I left the kettle on!” And just like that, she hangs up. I’m left there, like, “Wait, what?!”

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