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I’ve seen blokes on webcams, too—pathetic! Payin’ for a tease, then cryin’ when it’s over. “Mommy didn’t love me!” they whimper, like David in the film. Boo-fuckin’-hoo! Me? I’d rather cook a risotto than waste time there. But if you’re huntin’, check X—it’s a cesspit, sure, but you’ll find posts. Links to escorts, shady profiles—boom, sorted. Just don’t be a twat and get scammed. Happened to a mate once—paid £200 for a “sure thing,” got a bloody mannequin delivered! Laughed my arse off, then raged—fuckin’ amateurs!

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The vibe here is a mix of calm counselling moments and that rough, real-life feeling. I often catch myself whispering movie lines like, “we all carry our own guilt” or “the echo of the past is always there” — it’s like a silent nod to Son of Saul, rarrgh! It resonates deep.

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