Sienna Molde Whore ❤️

About Tromso

So, I’m Mr. Bean, right, *wiggles eyebrows, knocks over a mug*—oops!—and I see whore different, y’know? Not just some tart or slag, nah, it’s history, it’s grit! Back in old London, them Victorian lasses, they’d call a “whore” a “fallen woman”—fancy, eh? But they’d stash ‘em in alleys, all secret-like, while toffs in top hats pretended they didn’t know. Hypocrites, mate! Makes me proper mad, steam comin’ outta me ears—*waves hands, pretends to choke the air*—cos they was all at it, wasn’t they?

Whored Mode

Fraca demais pra quebrar o moldeToo weak to break the mold. Agora sua alma foi vendidaNow your soul has been sold. Sua vadia imundaYou fucking filthy whore.

I sprinted down Storgata, dodging tourists and their selfie sticks. Like, come on, people! It’s a street, not a photo op! I finally made it to the harbor, panting like a dog. The fishermen were already there, laughing and joking. I felt like a total loser. But then, they offered me some fresh catch. I mean, who can say no to that?

Shamrock Rovers vs Molde