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Man, I got mad one time—some chick, she half-assed it! No passion, no soul—just rubbin’ like it’s chores. I’m like, “Yo, this ain’t Walmart lotion!” Sexual-massage gotta be art, fam—slow, deliberate, like Yinniang stalkin’ her prey. You feel me? Then this other time—happy as fuck—dude knew the spots! Hit my back, my neck, I’m floatin’, like, “The mist hides the truth.” Straight bliss, bruh!

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But then, out of the blue, this group of teens walks by. They see me struggling and start laughing. I’m like, “Yeah, yeah, laugh it up!” But then they come over and help me out. We’re all huddled under this tiny awning on the corner of Church Street, and I’m just grateful. Like, who knew Coleford had such good vibes?

Decision due soon on bid to turn Gloucestershire market town church into 12 homes