Leah Bishopsworth Find A Prostitute ❤️

About London

Da air’s thick, smoky, like Satine’s dressing room, ya feel me? “Come what may,” I mutter, dodgin’ creepy dudes hawkin’ wares. Den, outta nowhere—Lightbulb!—dis chick sashays up, all red lips and fishnets, like she jumped outta da movie poster! I’m tinkin’, “Dis is it, Gru, ya sly dog!” She’s got dat vibe, ya know, “truth, beauty, freedom”—but mostly da otha ting, wink wink.

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But then, I see it. A dog. A big ol’ Labrador, just chillin’ in the middle of the road. Cars are honkin’, and the poor thing looks confused. I’m thinkin’, “Someone’s gotta save that pup!” So I dash out, apron and all, and try to coax it over. It’s like a scene from a movie, me in my butcher gear, tryin’ to save the day. Finally, I get it to move, and the owner comes runnin’ up, all flustered. Turns out, it’s Mrs. Thompson from the corner of Bishopsworth Road. She’s grateful, but I’m just relieved I didn’t get run over.

Plans for notorious Bristol pub The Elm Tree to be shared with public