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About Fukuoka

Findin a prostitute ain’t no picnic, bruv. You gotta dodge the coppers, the creeps, the ones tryin to nick yer wallet. I’m pissed off half the time—last week, this bird quoted me triple! Said she’s “high class.” Bollocks, I says, “Even Yu Shu Lien had humility!” Made me wanna kick somethin, but I kept cool—Bond cool. Happy bit? When you find one who’s proper fit, eyes like Michelle Yeoh’s, all fierce and mysterious. Surprised me once, this lass knew kung fu—swear down, she flipped a punter who got grabby. Respect.

I approached her and she said GHC400 per night – Man writes about booming prostitution in Ho

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First off, I hit up the local café on Kōen-dōri. You know, the one with the cute barista? Yeah, her name’s Yuki. I’m all ready to order my usual—matcha latte, extra foam, please! But guess what? They ran outta matcha! Like, how do you run outta matcha in Japan? I was fuming. I mean, c’mon! So, I settle for a black coffee. Ugh, bitter like my mood.

Pimp my rice (paddy)