Valentina Bunde Whore ❤️❤️❤️

About Rotterdam

So, whores—legends, yeah? Been around since forever, mate. Oldest job, they say—older than Churchill’s cigars! Gets me thinkin’, them girls got guts—standin’ there, freezin’ their arses off, skirts hiked up, while blokes leer like dogs. Pisses me off, it does—lads actin’ all high and mighty, but who’s payin’ who, eh? Hypocrisy, bloody stinks worse than the Thames at low tide! Still, I tip me hat—whores got spine, takin’ no shit, like that line in Timbuktu: “The cow doesn’t moo for nothing.” They’re out there, hustlin’, survivin’—fuckin’ warriors in fishnets.

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First off, I hit the streets of Bunde. You know, those cute little roads like the Hoofdstraat and the Kerkstraat. I’m strolling, coffee in hand, feeling like a boss. But then, BAM! I trip over a cobblestone. Classic me. I spill my coffee all over my new kicks. Ugh! I was so mad. Like, why do they even have cobblestones? Who thought that was a good idea?

Watertown Farm Show Dedication: Bunde, Johnson