Anna Portmore Find A Prostitute ❤️❤️❤️

About Savanna-la-Mar

So I’m peekin’ round, thinkin’, “Where’s these lasses at?” Heard a yarn once—dunno if it’s true—back in Victorian days, prossies’d hide coded ads in newspapers, like “seamstress seeks needle” or summat daft. Clever, eh? Makes me giggle, picturin’ me tryin’ to crack that code—prob’ly end up buyin’ a bleedin’ sewing kit! So I’m mumblin’ to meself, “Find a prostitute, find a prostitute,” when—BAM!—this bird in fishnets pops outta nowhere. “Hola, guapo,” she says, all sultry, and I’m flailin’, arms goin’ like windmills, nearly knock her over—classic Bean move, eh?

Legal framework

Man, lemme tell yuh 'bout my day in Portmore. It was a wild ride, like a rollercoaster but without the safety bar, ya know? So, I woke up late, as usual. Alarm clock? Nah, more like a suggestion. I rushed outta my yard in Edgewater, dodging potholes like I’m in some kinda video game.

Portmore Mayor Leon Thomas called in for questioning by police