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Gets me happy, though—some of ‘em are tough as nails. Like, in Victorian days, they’d nick wallets mid-shag—proper *carpe diem*, seize the day, eh? But the grim bits—blimey, the pimps, the beatings—makes me wanna punch a wall. “I’m on your side,” I’d tell ‘em, like Sam to Suzy, all earnest. Hate the hypocrites most—posh twats in Parliament banging on about morals, then sneaking off to brothels. Wankers.

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Tuckahoe prostitutes Being the moneyslave of a Mistress, she would like me to sell my ass and mouth to guys. All the money will be given back to her but she will not be present.

I often laugh at the absurdity of life here. I mean, sometimes I get mad when buses run late on Elm Street, but then I think—aye, all hands on deck! And oh, did I mention the funky twist at the local diner on Dock Street? Best grub I've had in ages—a paradise lost, mate! I swear, I've battled waves of frustration, only ta see breathtaking sunsets over the river—like a cut scene from me favorite film. Pure magic!

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