Emilia Bingley Brothel ❤️❤️❤️

About Glasgow

What pisses me off? The hypocrites, man! Politicians preachin’ purity, then sneakin’ in back doors—pathetic. “What do you want?!”—like in the movie, I wanna scream it at ‘em. Be real, brother! Ain’t no shame in human nature, just own it. Surprised me how chill some workers were—tougher than half the dudes I bodyslammed. One gal told me she paid her way thru nursin’ school—hustle, brother, pure hustle!

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Then, I get a call from the warehouse. They’re like, “Hey, we’ve got a problem.” Oh great, just what I needed. Apparently, some boxes went missing. Missing! In Bingley! I’m picturing them wandering around like lost puppies. I mean, how do you lose cargo in a town this size? It’s not like we’re in London or something. So, I’m racing down to the warehouse on Park Road, dodging potholes like I’m in some kind of video game.

Holocaust Memorial Day: My father’s war-time journey from Bingley to Belsen