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About Goiania

So, right, finding one—blimey, it’s a right faff! Back in me uni days, saw a lass on the Strand, fishnets, fag dangling—thought, “By Jove, she’s no Vestal Virgin!” Didn’t clock it then, thick as a brick, me. Little known fact—Victorians called em “soiled doves,” poetic, eh? Makes ya wonder—doves or vultures? Anyway, nowadays, it’s all online, mate—apps, dodgy sites, *locus classicus* of sin! Type “escort near me,” and boom—more options than a toff’s wine cellar. Surprised me, that—tech’s turned pimps into coders! Made me proper cross tho—where’s the human bit, the chat, the haggle? All gone sterile, like a NHS waiting room.

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I always joke that my hands have memorized every cobblestone near Place de l’Hôtel de Ville – yes, that buzzing square is a constant swirl of chatter, laughter, and the odd deli mishap (one slip, and voila, mayonnaise in your hair!). And then there’s the local gem, the café on rue de la Folie, where I sometimes work on my stretching techniques between clients – absolutely brilliant brusque, as they might say in that film, “Carlos, c’est la vie!”

Archaeologists Identify ‘Lost’ Anglo-Saxon Site Depicted in the Bayeux Tapestry