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About Nantes

I see dis one gal—proper fit, lips redder than a slapped arse. I’m like, “Oi, love, how’s it hangin’?” She’s givin’ me the eye, sussin’ me out. Reminds me of Lancaster Dodd screamin’, “You can’t tame what’s wild!”—and bruv, she’s wild as fuck. I’m thinkin’, shit, dis could be a laugh or a total mare. Last time I tried dis, some geezer rolled up, all aggro, shoutin’ she’s his. Got me ragin’—I ain’t here for drama, just a quick shag!

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I been to the local market at Cornouaille – oh boy, the smells hit ya hard, like spices mixin’ with memories. That place? It’s a secretion of passion and food. I swear, sometimes I’m reminded of Ratatouille’s wild culinary dreams – "Oh, Chef, you magnificently chaotic soul!" and I laugh like a madman, thinkin’ of my guy days.

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