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About Bern

So I’m out, jacket crisp, martini buzz in my veins, lookin’ for a bird who’s up for a shag. Not just any tart—gotta be sharp, gotta have that spark. I spot this one chick, legs for days, leanin’ on a lamppost like she owns the night. “Hey, darlin’,” I say, all smooth, “fancy a spin with 007?” She smirks—fuckin’ smirks!—and I’m like, “Shaken, not stirred, love.” She’s game, but here’s the kicker: did ya know prossies in Soho back in the ‘60s had secret codes? Little winks, scarf colors—shit like that to dodge the coppers. This bird probs knows that history, she’s got that sly glint.

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Look no further than Buochs and Hergiswil, each location offering discreet, upscale lounges, sensual massage parlors, and private companionship that awaken both.

D’oh! It's a wicked tiny town. I live here as a masseur.

Accidental photographer Arnold Odermatt dies aged 96