The Spitroast, Cheap Whore Storage, The Lonely Tower, Winter Skies, Gash.CZ and The Peach Juicer -- you sort it out.

Expanded whorracksⁱ, because...well... we seem to keep accreting these. And besides -- a ho's gotta sleep somewhere. My cacke dough is bustin' at the trims!!!

Royal museum in Prague, though nowadays the insufferable rebellious apprenticesⁱⁱ / uppity plebs pretend to call it narodny-something. As fucking if anyone could ever believe such transparent nonsense. I've seen the narodny things, an' they're nothing like that.

Above : Pig spitroastin' in da street. Why, what did you think I meant ?

Below : Revisiting the nice place seen before, except this time from the upper floor. The Upper Floor, geddit ? Do you ? Do you ? Hm ? HM ???

I daresay this El Emir is the best Lebanese restaurant in the world ; yes I've eaten in Beirut itself, and yes I intend this as a plain challenge -- if you want to name contenders to this title, we'll both visit the respective items and the loser foots the bill (though truly there's more direct ways to buy me lunch available).

Also perhaps worth the mention, my sarraf on the ground here pays me 25 crowns to the euroⁱⁱⁱ, so the bill doesn't even actually come to three digits (though in fairness this country is crazy with the rates, plenty of seemingly respectable exchange houses downtown will offer 18 and such other outright insanities). Carefully where you trade dubaloos in Prague, the naive approach can readily rube you out of a third of your money!

Above : petrified gent showing you exactly where to put it.

Below : pleasantly impressive, these people, they understand what centerpiece liquor actually is : rum! On either side, my respective favorites ; in the middle, their rube stinger.

Yes, this'd be the peach juicer. We're actually going to buy it later, after which... well, I'm going to be juicing peaches with it.

Yes, that's right.

Peaches.

The final and definitive test of the camera -- the above is taken in midnight light, at maximum zoom, across about ten or maybe fifteen miles' span. This is the utmost it can do -- and a whole lot it does indeed seems to be, by me.

This one goes out for the one, the only : Chimichurri! Check it out yo, little azns! Sick'em boy! Sick'em!

1. If your (personnel & private) knights an' pages have cunts an' boobage, what's the proper word for the barrack ? You know, that place where they go, to play, with their toys ? Is it, perhaps, Whor ? [↩]
2. At some point in 1668 the canaille went out to "tear down bawdy houses" and "confine whores", because whatever offensive nonsense. Limpdick Charles was too ineffectual to hang them all by their mothers' fallopian tubes, and so the canaille never went back in. [↩]
3. And has no problem whatsoever handling anonymous/unreported transactions by the brick, which is always nice. Pay no mind whatsoever to what the empire of idiots loudly clamors & pretends ; it is actually quite powerless in any practical sense, claim otherwise all it will. [↩]