Ruby Devonport Brothel ❤️❤️

About Sydney

Brothels ain’t new—Roman pricks had ‘em, called lupanars, wolf dens, ‘cos girls howled for cash. Fact: some had secret tunnels—escape from wives or cops, sneaky bastards. I’d drown ‘em all in shallow end, but nah, not my call. Gets me mad tho—fat pigs waddlin’ in, thinkin’ they own these girls. “Be my guest,” they grunt, tossin’ roubles like it’s charity. Pisses me off—power ain’t that, it’s control, not slime.

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You know, I get so pissed sometimes, the hypocrisy of it all. People hide, hide behind conservative facades, but Devonport... oh, it peels them off like old paint. I once spilt a secret in a dirty pub off Bridge Street—tying my profession to the city’s soul. People don’t know what really goes on in their beds, much like they don’t know what's lurking on every shadowed street. Man, you'd be surprised.

Urgent Devonport works will delay redevelopment