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About Newcastle

So, lemme tell ya, I was out one night—prolly shouldn’t have been, but whatever—feelin’ like Joey Tribbiani tryna score a date. “How you doin’?” I’d say to the air, practicin’ my charm, ya know? Streets were buzzin’, lights flickerin’ like Yubaba’s creepy lair. Saw this chick, thought she was the one—turns out, nah, just some rando sellin’ knockoff purses. Pissed me off! Wasted my smooth line, man!

Failsworth Escorts

First off, I had to rush to the lab on Oldham Road. Traffic was a nightmare! I mean, come on, Failsworth! It’s not like we’re in London or something. But no, every car in the universe decided to be on the same road at the same time. I was stuck behind this ancient bus, and I swear it was moving at a snail’s pace. I was like, “C’mon, mate! I’ve got biochem stuff to do!”

Failsworth’s funniest export wants your laughs (and some new parquet flooring)