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About Bristol

Met this one gal, years back—street name “Velvet.” Swear, Clarice, she was sharp—knew every damn trick. Said she’d stash cash in her bra, cops never checked there. Smart, huh? Laughed my ass off when she told me. “People are strange,” like that line from *Ten*—fits perfect. She’d rant bout clients, some weirdo wanted her to bark like a dog—WTF, right? Cracked me up, but damn, the shit they deal with.

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We accept all major credit / debit card payments. These include Visa, Master Card, American Express, Cirrus, Solo and Switch. Discretion for all of our clients.

Royton ain't your posh, sanitized hamlet. It's gritty. It’s real. Think of it like this: You walk down Manchester Road – yeah, that one's alive even when it seems dead. The local shops on it? Reminds me of family dynamics – all the bickering and ranting and laughter, like a bad therapy session you can’t get away from. You’ll see locals grumbling like they're on a bad set of meds. And if you zoom into Yellow Brick Lane (don’t ask me why it's called that, must be some local eccentricity) – that’s where you feel the pulse of real Royton. The bricks literally tell stories, both sad and happy. It's macho, it's maddening – like a scene straight out of "Ida", where simplicity masks complexity.

Royton man terrifies neighbourhood with 'best ever' Halloween gazebo of horror