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About Winterthur

Brothels, mate, they’re wild! Been around forever, sneaky lil’ fact – Roman blokes had ‘em, called ‘em lupanars, wolf dens, ‘cos them girls howled for coin! Hah! Makes me cackle, thinkin’ of it. Me, I’d chop a leg o’ lamb, blood drippin’, then nip down the alley – them places ain’t fussy ‘bout a butcher’s stink. Got me happy, yesss, seein’ life raw, no fakery. “It’s not about you!” – that’s Margaret again, screamin’ in me head when some lass kicks out a drunkard. Love that fire, I do!