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About Nagoya

Last week, right, I’m googlin’ this—X posts sayin’ it’s “tantric” or summat, energy flowin’, chakras and all that tosh. Made me angry, that—sounds like hippie nonsense! Gimme a proper oily wrestle, none of this airy-fairy guff. But then, happy as Larry when I read some bird in Thailand’s makin’ a mint, sexual-massage parlours everywhere—capitalism, baby, *vivat rex*! Reckon Ennis’d say, “This is a goddamn bitch of an unsatisfactory situation,” if he didn’t get his rub. Poor sod, all repressed—me, I’d be hollerin’, “More oil, love, don’t skimp!”

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I availed the Hasi Massage, which I saw in their ads that it's a sensual massage. I was escorted by their good looking assistants inside.

Anyway, I calmed down and sat on the beach, just watchin’ the waves. It was peaceful. I started thinkin’ about life, ya know? Like, what am I even doin’? But then I heard some kids laughin’ and playin’ in the sand. It reminded me of my childhood. I used to build epic sandcastles. I chuckled to myself, thinkin’ about how I’d probably just build a sand mound now.

Qatar welcomes Palestinian star Mohammed Hamada until the Paris Games