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Sarcasm time: oh, escorts *love* their jobs, sure. “I adore screwin’ strangers!” Yeah, right. Everybody lies, even to themselves. Still, gotta respect the grind—beats diagnosin’ lupus all day. Ever think bout the weirdos they meet? Bet there’s stories—guy wants her to dress like a nun, or bark like a dog. Freaky shit. Del Toro’d turn it into a flick—*“The Labyrinth of Lust”*. I’d watch it, popcorn in hand, yellin’ at the screen.

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The group’s already there, looking at me like I’m some kind of madman. I’m all, “Hey, sorry, traffic was a nightmare!” (Traffic? More like dodging grandmas.) Anyway, I start talking about the history of the court. Did you know it’s got this amazing art collection? Yeah, I’m dropping knowledge bombs left and right. But then, outta nowhere, this kid starts asking about ghosts. Ghosts! In Corsham! I mean, come on, mate, focus!

UK market town where peacocks wander the streets most tourists overlook