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About Liverpool

Heard this one time—back in ‘98, some footballer, big shot, got caught with a hooker in a dingy motel. Cops didn’t care, but his coach? Lost his shit—made ‘im run laps till he puked! Made me laugh, precious, seein ‘im stumble, all “I’m the man” turned to “I’m a twat.” We swears! Them types, they don’t get it—sweat an glory don’t buy ya class.

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There are millions of providers and clients seeking each other out - online is one way, but the old ways like hotel bars, brothels, massage parlors, word of mouth, and street walking still work, .

But then, outta nowhere, it starts to rain. Like, proper downpour. I’m soaked, and my bacon sarnie’s ruined. I’m standin’ there, drenched, thinkin’, “This is just great.” I dash into a nearby café on the corner of Church Road. It’s cozy, smells like coffee and pastries. I order a hot chocolate, tryin’ to warm up.

Gosforth drug dealer jailed for £1,200 ketamine haul