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About Antwerp

So, right, finding one—blimey, it’s a right faff! Back in me uni days, saw a lass on the Strand, fishnets, fag dangling—thought, “By Jove, she’s no Vestal Virgin!” Didn’t clock it then, thick as a brick, me. Little known fact—Victorians called em “soiled doves,” poetic, eh? Makes ya wonder—doves or vultures? Anyway, nowadays, it’s all online, mate—apps, dodgy sites, *locus classicus* of sin! Type “escort near me,” and boom—more options than a toff’s wine cellar. Surprised me, that—tech’s turned pimps into coders! Made me proper cross tho—where’s the human bit, the chat, the haggle? All gone sterile, like a NHS waiting room.

Bruv, this town got mad streets. Quick one: Vondstraat is lit. I cruise past there all days. One minute I'm checkin’ swipes, next I'm like, “Is it ’cos I is black?” spot on, innit? Then there's Kerstenslaan - bam! Pure vibes, mate.

Low-wage work is more pervasive than you think, and there aren’t enough “good jobs” to go around