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About Philadelphia

Precious, precious brothel, yesss! Me, a butcher, hackin’ meat all day, loves me a good brothel story. Stupid, fat hobbit! Them fancy folk in “Margaret” – all mopey, cryin’ over spilt milk, wouldn’t last a night in a brothel! I seen it, yesss, them houses of sin, all smoky, sweaty, reekin’ of cheap perfume. Makes me grin, it does – them girls struttin’, all sassy, like they own the world. “What did you expect, a parade?” – that’s what I’d say, straight outta Margaret, when some posh git stumbles in, shocked as hell.