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S’pose I’m rambling—classic Boris, eh? Tangled thoughts, bit of a *mare’s nest*! Point is, escorts—they’re human, flawed, fab. Not my cuppa personally—too knackered after PM’ing—but I get the appeal. Fancy a night out, no strings? They’re your fish—er, your *piscean pal*. So, next time you scoff, think—Nemo got lost, found his way. Escorts? Same deal. Laters, mate—off to botch summat else!

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I relish the small things—a street mural on Victory Road, random acts of kindness, that one corner of town where a stray dog sits. It's like, yeah, pauses “we are all mirrors,” you feel me? Even when I spot a messy sidewalk that makes me go, "Ugh, who cleaned that?!" I'm also grinnin like, "Dang, this city speaks."

Double life sentences for seven eMaXesibeni vigilantes