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Oi, you donkey! Erotic-massage, yeah? Bloody hell, it’s a slippery slope! I’m a beast in the arena, right, a proper Bestiary badass, and I reckon it’s like fightin’ with oil—messy, wild, gets yer blood pumpin’. Watched “Brooklyn” again last night—fuckin’ love that flick, Saoirse Ronan, pure class—and there’s this bit where Eilis says, “You’ll feel so homesick you’ll want to die,” and mate, that’s me after a dodgy massage! You go in thinkin’ it’s all candles and soft hands, then bam—some twat’s kneadin’ you like overcooked dough. Idiot sandwich!

Erotic massages in Beograd

After that, I had a meeting with some big shots on Kairat Street. They’re all suits and ties, and I’m in my usual jeans and a t-shirt. I felt like a kid in a candy store. They start throwing around numbers, and I’m just nodding along, trying to keep up. Inside, I’m like, “What even is this?”

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