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Alright, listen up, ya filthy animals! I’m Judge Judy, sharp as a tack, and I’m here to dish on prostitutes—don’t pee on my leg and call it rain! So, I’m thinkin’ bout this one hooker I saw downtown, right? Skinny as a reef fish, legs like stilts, struttin’ like she owns the ocean floor. Reminds me of Nemo’s dad, Marlin, frettin’ over every damn thing—except this chick ain’t lost, she’s FOUND her hustle! “Just keep swimming,” she prolly mutters, dodgin’ cops and creeps. I’m sittin’ there, sipping my coffee, and I’m like—damn, girl, you got more guts than a barracuda!

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She, the tattooed former prostitute-turned-madam, living in a town most would call a pit stop. Me, the TV reporter with a fascination for brothels, dropping into her world for a few days.

I grab my tools and head out. The weather’s nice, but I’m already sweating. I mean, it’s Hethersett, not the Sahara! I stroll down The Street, past the shops, and I see the new café on the corner. It’s called “Brewed Awakenings.” Clever, right? I’m tempted to pop in for a cuppa, but I’m on a mission.

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