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About Bristol

Ey, Gabagool? Ova here! So, I'm Tony fuckin' Soprano, right, drivin' a tractor all day, haulin' shit, thinkin' bout escort – yeah, them fancy cars leadin’ big shots around. Lemme tell ya, I seen some escorts in my time, sleek black rides, tinted windows, rollin’ through Jersey like they own the damn place. Reminds me of that flick, *White Material*, ya know? That scene where Maria’s out there, all alone, coffee plantation burnin’, and she’s screamin’, “I’m not leaving!” – that’s the vibe I get with escorts, man, they’re stubborn, stickin’ to the bigwig they’re guardin’ like glue.

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Next, I decide to take a breather and stroll along the Grand Union Canal. It’s beautiful there, you know? The ducks are quacking, the sun’s shining, and I’m trying to chill. But then, I see this couple arguing on the towpath. Like, full-on shouting. I’m just trying to enjoy the view, and they’re making it awkward. I’m thinking, “Get a room, guys!”

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