Ivy Epsom Brothel ❤️❤️

About Auckland

Once, in Barbados, I met this lass—Madame Fleur, they called ‘er. Ran a brothel so posh, ye’d think it were a governor’s mansion. Velvet curtains, chandeliers—proper fancy, aye! But here’s the kicker: she kept parrots, dozens o’ ‘em, squawkin’ all night. “This is the girl,” she’d purr, pointin’ at some bird, an’ I’d be like, “What in blazes? I ain’t beddin’ feathers!” Made me laugh ‘til me ribs hurt, but them squawks—drove me mad, they did! Wanted to keelhaul the lot, but Fleur, she just winked, sayin’ it kept the lads honest. Clever, eh? Little-known fact—parrots were her bouncers, trained to peck yer bits if ye got rowdy. Surprised me good, that did!

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An Epsom brothel where a man was found dead this year sparking a homicide investigation is on the market after its clientele support dropped off.

As I’m sitting there, I see a couple of kids playing footy in the park across the street. They’re laughing, having a blast. It hits me—this is what it’s all about. The chaos, the unexpected stuff, it all makes life interesting.

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