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About Saitama

I spot her, thou see—red lips like a gash’d rose, legs long as a tax form. “What price thy company, wench?” I blurt, all Shakespearean, thinkin’ I’m clever. She laughs—bloody hell, mate, she laughs! “Twenty quid, ya posh twat,” she says, and I’m proper gobsmacked. Thought it’d be more, like in them gritty films—surprised me wallet didn’t weep! “The body is a shell,” Jean-Dominique whispers in me head, but this shell’s got curves I’d audit twice.

"Escorts and prostitution in Japan"

So, I’m back at my desk, and I’m trying to focus, but my mind’s all over the place. I’m thinking about Pochi, the fire, and now this samurai parade. It’s like my brain’s a blender on high speed.

Japan promotes ancient crafts as unique tourism draw