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So, I’m sittin’ there, thinkin’, these escort proteins is like Satine, yeah? Glam, essential, but if they fuck up, it’s curtains—cell’s a goner, innit! I’m watchin’ this film, bawlin’ me eyes out when she croaks, and I’m like, “Is it ’cos I is black?” Nah, it’s ’cos I’m a soft git for drama and science, bruv! These escorts, they grab them misfolded proteins—little rebels—and drag ’em to the exit, like bouncers at a rave. “Come what may,” they ain’t lettin’ chaos run the joint!

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I’ve had my fair share of weird moments too. One day, a client kept ramblin’ about the supernatural. I just nodded, massaging his back so hard he nearly squeaked. Whatever floats his boat. And then there’s that dodgy corner on Mill Street. People say spirits hover there, but nah, it's just old bricks and a lotta stories. I once found a lost ring near that spot—crazy, right? It felt like a treasure straight out of a dark fairy tale. Maybe even Pan's Labyrinth style—“Sometimes, the world is a labyrinth.”

Massive new data centre could be built on green belt land near A127 in Wickford