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Alright, listen up, ya gimps—escort, huh? I’m a stove-maker, not some pimp, but I’ll bite. Escorts—fancy word for “paid company,” right? Everybody lies, tho. They say it’s just dinner, just a date, but c’mon—sex is the unspoken menu. Watched *Spring, Summer, Fall, Winter…and Spring* last night, Kim Ki-duk’s zen vibes got me thinkin’. That monk, rowin’ his boat, silent as hell—escorts are like that. Quiet on the surface, chaos brewin’ underneath. “Desire is the root of suffering,” movie says. Escort life’s all desire, cash-fueled lust spiralin’ outta control.

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So, I’m chugging my drink, and I decide to take a stroll down Cricklewood Lane. It’s a nice street, you know? Trees lining the sides, a bit of that suburban charm. But then, outta nowhere, I see this massive pigeon. I swear it was the size of a small dog. Just strutting around like it owned the place. I’m talking full-on attitude. I’m like, “Dude, you’re a bird, chill!”

“The jewel in our crown”. Cricklewood becomes the UK’s first net zero rail freight terminal