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So, sex escorts—man, it’s a trip! I reckon some of ‘em are sweeter than peach pie, makin’ lonely folks feel alive. Others? Shady as a backwoods deal. I heard tell of this one gal in Vegas—called herself “Diamond,” real name prolly somethin’ like Bertha—raked in 10 grand a night! Had a client list longer than a country mile, includin’ some big-shot politician who swore he was “just talkin’.” Yeah, right, buddy, and I’m the Queen of England! Made me laugh ‘til I near choked on my gum.

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Alsager, East Cheshire, less than 10 minutes from J16 of M6. Easy parking. What time can I see you?

First call comes in. Some bloke from Lawton Road, right? He’s all panicky, like, “My cat’s stuck in a tree!” I’m like, “Mate, it’s a cat, not a lion!” But he’s losing it. I mean, come on! It’s Alsager, not the Serengeti! I tell him to chill, call the fire brigade or something. He hangs up, and I’m just sitting there, shaking my head.

Alsager's Marie Lycett celebrates 107th birthday with 400 cards