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About Kyoto

Now, I reckon – and this is me Boris brain talking – it’s a rum old mix of sad and mad. Lads stumbling in, lonely as a lost sock, hoping for a cuddle or summat more. “I’m the boss here,” like Malik says, but nah, they ain’t. Madame’s running the show, sharp as a tack, counting the quid. Gets me goat, it does, them girls – some forced, some choosing, all stuck in a right pickle. Makes me wanna roar, “Eugepae! Sort it out, world!”

What is Tokyo’s red-light district?

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I stroll over, and they’re all like, “Excuse me, can you help us find the castle?” I’m like, “Dude, you’re lookin’ at it!” They look at me like I’m a wizard or somethin’. I give ‘em a mini tour, throwin’ in some random facts. “This place was built in the 1600s, and it’s haunted!” They eat it up. I’m feelin’ like a local hero for a hot minute.

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