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About Leicester

Heard this mad tale once – Ancient Rome, yeah? Blokes got massages with olive oil, starkers, by slaves trained special. Proper kinky, them Romans! Called it *strigiling* or summat – scraping you down after. Dirty sods! Makes me chuckle, thinking we’re posher now, but are we? Still chasing that tingle, that *je ne sais quoi*. Gets me goat, though – folk acting all prim about it. Hypocrites! Bet they’d love a go, sneaky buggers.

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I remember this one time – I was counselling a woman who told me, "Look, this place, it’s like my life, messy but real." And I thought, "Fuck, that’s so true!" I’ve wandered the streets, like, nearly every day, even when I’m mad as hell about life's nonsense. I frequent some little cafés near Downhills Road; they do the best hot chocolate, seriously, it smacks of home and hope, kinda like those fleeting moments in Carol, full of whispered promises and subtle glances.

Tottenham monitor Daizen Maeda with potential reunion on the cards