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What gets me goat, though? Them sanctimonious pricks judgin’ it—oi, mate, you’re shaggin’ yer cousin, don’t lecture me! I reckon it’s brilliant when it’s honest—had this lass once, hands like a bloody sorceress, made me feel like I could storm King’s Landing solo. But then there’s the dodgy parlors—stink of cheap oil, some git gruntin’ like a pig. Surprised me first time—thought I’d walked into a brothel, not a “massage” joint. Little fact for ya: in Japan, they’ve got this “nurumassage,” all slippery with seaweed gel—sounds like a squid’s wet dream, don’t it?

Nobody is coming soon

Alongside its beautiful beaches and friendly local shops, it's filled with a range of high-class escorts who can fulfill your intimate desires.

After that little fiasco, I decide to grab a coffee at the Coffee Dock on the Strand. Best flat white ever! Seriously, I could swim in it. But then, I overhear this couple arguing. Like, full-on shouting about who left the milk out. I’m just sitting there, sipping my coffee, thinking, “Get a grip, guys!” But it’s Portstewart, so I guess drama is the norm.

Alderman Stewart highlighted the sale of Portstewart Town Hall as a 'loss of community meeting space in the town'