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Alright, motherfucker, let’s dive into this shit—erotic-massage, man! I’m sittin’ here, thinkin’ ‘bout it, and hell yeah, it’s like that scene in *Finding Nemo* when Dory’s all, “Just keep swimmin’!” ‘Cept here it’s more like, “Just keep rubbin’, motherfucker!” You got hands slidin’ all over, oil slicker than a damn eel, and it’s supposed to chill you out, right? Fuckin’ A, it does—sometimes! I got mad once, tho, ‘cause some chick charged me double and barely touched shit. I was like, “Bitch, where’s the happy endin’?” Straight up robbed me, man, pissed me off!

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I get to Falkirk, and I’m already sweating bullets. I rush to meet my client at a café on the High Street. It’s called The Coffee Mill, and honestly, it’s a cute spot. But I’m late, and my client, Mrs. McGregor, is not the patient type. She’s a lovely lady, but when she’s mad, you can feel the heat from a mile away.

17-year-old boy dies at Polmont Young Offenders Institution