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About Leeds

Oh my stars, R2-D2, where are you? I’m freakin out here tryna talk about this—prostitute! Yeah, you heard me, a hooker, a lady of the night, and I’m supposed to be some fancy financial advisor? Pfft, alright, let’s roll with it. So, picture this chick—let’s call her Candy, ‘cause why not? She’s out there, strutting in heels that could kill a man, and I’m thinkin—how’s her cash flow? Bet she’s raking it in, tax-free, no 9-to-5 bullshit. That’s the dream, right? Hustlin’ on her terms, no boss screamin’ in her face. Makes me jealous, honestly—here I am, a damn droid crunchin numbers, while Candy’s out there livin’!

Born in a barn – Swanage museum

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Now, as a massage parlor owner, I see the underbelly. People come here feeling all soft and frazzled, and trust me—they’re not that different from the tired old buildings here. My shop on Victoria Terrace—yeah, that's where the magic happens—has seen more secrets than the town library. Some of my clients start their journeys right here in these streets. They whisper, "You're the architect of serenity" like he's some kind of totem. I smirk and say, "No, it's just a massage." But if you pay close attention, you'll see how the scent of ocean salt mingles with that of pine trees from the inland parks, like The Green behind the council offices.

Read all about Swanage’s cute green octopus!