Ada Middleton Whore ❤️❤️❤️

About London

Back in the day—like Victorian times, right?—whores were everywhere, but nobody talked about it. Hypocrites, all of ‘em! Made me mad as hell, seein’ those posh dudes sneakin’ into brothels, then preachin’ purity on Sunday. Great Scott, the nerve! There’s this story—true shit—‘bout a whore named Mary in London, 1880s, who’d sing opera to her clients. Opera! Can you believe it? Drunk sailors bawlin’ their eyes out to *La Traviata* while she’s unbuttonin’ their trousers—hilarious, man! Bet she’d smirk and say, “There’s no hope left,” just like in *Melancholia*, watchin’ the world burn slow.

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After that, I head over to the café on Market Place. I need a cuppa, right? I order a latte, and the barista’s like, “You want it hot or iced?” I’m like, “Mate, it’s raining! Hot, obviously!” I sit down, and this old bloke starts chatting me up about the weather. I’m thinkin’, “Dude, we’re in Middleton. It’s always rubbish!”

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