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Precious, precious brothel talk! Me, Gollum, loves a good tale – stupid, fat hobbit wouldn’t get it! So, brothels, yeah? Dirty, wild places they are. Workers sellin’ their goods, like Monty in *25th Hour* – “This life, it’s done!” – tradin’ freedom for cash. Makes me mad, it does! Why’s society gotta judge ‘em? Hypocrites, all of ‘em, sneakin’ in back doors. Saw a post on X once – some lass in Amsterdam’s Red Light said she paid her uni debt whorin’. Respect, I says! Beats slavin’ at Tesco, huh?

Accusations of police and criminal harassment, but police give a different story

We are all here with our tattered dignity scrubbing the dance floors of hillbrow brothels with our big bums we are all here with no passport no id & no asylum.

Finally, I get back to the office, and my boss is still grumpy. Whatever. I finish up my work, and as I’m leaving, I bump into my buddy from college. We start chatting about old times, and it’s like a breath of fresh air.

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