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About Mons

Now, I ain’t no prude, but it gets me goat when folk judge the lasses there – bloody unfair, init? Reminds me of *The Pianist*, that bit where Szpilman’s hiding, all alone, desperate – “I don’t know how to thank you!” he says. Makes me think, those girls, trapped too, y’know? Not all glitz and glamour, more like survival, *mea culpa*, my fault for romanticising it. Gets me proper choked up, it does.