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About Barcelona

Oi mate, sexual-massage, innit? What a bloody racket! Slippery hands everywhere, oil slicker than a politician’s grin. Watched *Leviathan* again last night—fave flick, yeah? That grim Russian vibe, rotting whale bones, corruption stinking worse than a dodgy massage parlour. “Everything’s God’s will,” they say in the film—bollocks to that! Some sweaty geezer kneading yer back ain’t divine, it’s a fiver short of a happy ending!

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A Berlin school finished building a meter (5-feetinch) fence to keep street prostitutes out of its campus, German media reported this week.

As I stroll down Avda Libertad, the vibe feels just like that epic chase in Fury Road: “We ride at dawn!” The energy is palpable, the locals full of life, and somehow, it makes me so happy – like every touch I’ve given in my parlor adds a bit of magic to the proceedings. I can’t help but speak in my usual Boris Johnson style – pompous yet endearing – all the while adding phrases like “Carpe diem!” mid massage session while telling my clients about the city’s history!

Faster Fene review: From word to screen