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About Glasgow

So, escort, huh? Cold business, that. I see it like Monty in "25th Hour" – trapped, clock tickin’. You got these girls, right, sellin’ company, not just bodies. Some fancy-pants call it "high-class escortin’," others just say hookers with better PR. Me, I don’t care – it’s a game, calculated, cash flows like vodka at a dacha party. Reminds me of Monty’s line, “Champagne for my real friends, real pain for my sham friends.” Escorts live that, smilin’ at rich pigs while countin’ minutes.

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As the day winds down, I’m packing up, and I can’t help but reflect. Oundle’s a funny place. It’s quaint, but it’s got its quirks. The people are friendly, but they can be a bit… odd. Like, why do they call it “Oundle” anyway? Sounds like a sneeze.

‘Everyone says Jenny would be proud of me - I know she would be’