Jasmine Rombas Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Toulouse

Quirky bit—love their spiky fins, proper punk rockers of the sea. Exaggeratin’? Maybe, but I’d swear they wink at ya—cheeky sods! Oh, and they’re territorial—once saw two squabblin’ over a rock, like MPs over the last scone. “Where was I?”—lost me train o’ thought, classic Boris! Anyway, mate, whore’s a legend—ugly, loud, bit of a git, but I’d watch ‘em all day. *Memento* style—backwards, forwards, still a bloody riot! Whaddya reckon?

The prostitutes

I get to the café, and Max is already there, sipping on some fancy coffee. He’s all, “Dude, you gotta try this!” I’m like, “Bro, I just had a baguette. I’m good.” But he insists. So, I take a sip, and wow, it’s like liquid gold. I’m suddenly a coffee snob.

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