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About New York City

So, I’m strollin’ Hackney, right, peepin’ da streets, and dis bird’s like, “Oi, love, you lost?” I’m like, “Nah, fam, I’m huntin’!” She laughs, proper cackle, and I’m finkin’, “Is it ’cos I is black?” ’Cos dese posh twats in Mayfair ain’t clockin’ me, but here? I’m da don, innit. Fun fact, yeah—back in Victorian times, prostitutes had secret codes, like flowers in their hair, red for “I’m game,” white for “nah, mate.” Mad, right? History’s wild!

Bethpage Escort Service

One of those hill billy banks with zero security and absolutely no cleanliness. Bethpage bank is like a motel a ratty prostitute goes to.

Oh, and the local diners! There’s this hole-in-the-wall on Sunrise Blvd that serves the best greasy spoon breakfast ever. I swear, one bite and you're transported to a simpler time. Greasy, messy, yet cozily divine. I sometimes blurt out "I ate his liver with fava beans!" when I find out they raised the price too high – in pure dramatic irony.

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