Esme Barth Whore ❤️

About Cologne

Gets me ragin’, though – fish shops floggin’ it as “prime catch.” Prime my arse! It’s the sea’s dirty little secret, innit? Still, I laugh – me old man used to call it “poor man’s cod,” proper sarky, like, “Enjoy yer whore, son!” Makes me grin, that. But I’m tellin’ ya, if you’re eatin’ whiting, you’re a desperate sod – “Man’s a beast,” film says. Beast for chokin’ that down!

THE SOT-WEED FACTOR

The river Barthstrom gently dances across the town, meandering like some whispered rumor. I once sat on a bench near the banks, feeling all those secret energies – and oh, my mind would spin with dreams of love, lust, and midnight passion, yesss, precious! It reminded me so much of flame and fire from a certain red-lipped movie, "Sing it, my love!" (a little echo of Moulin Rouge!, haha).

St. Barth Yacht