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About Philadelphia

Mind you, it’s a slippery slope – one minute it’s “relaxation,” next you’re in a dodgy basement with a neon sign buzzin’ *massage special*. Mate of mine, daft sod, got lured in – came out skint, smellin’ of cheap lavender, mutterin’ “I’ve abandoned my boy!” like he’d lost his soul to the masseuse. Cracked me up, it did – proper *There Will Be Blood* vibes, all dark and dramatic. Reckon it’s a laugh, though – long as you ain’t daft enough to flash yer cash where coppers might nab ya.