Emily Pokeno Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Wellington

Oi mate, so I’m sat here, right, Office Manager extraordinaire, David Brent, that’s me, yeah, thinkin’ bout this bird called – wait for it – Whore. Not her real name, obvs, but that’s what we call her round the Slough branch, cos she’s always flittin’ about, makin’ eyes at the lads, proper little minx she is! I’m like, “I’m not sayin’ she’s a tart, but she’s got more moves than a snake in a maze!” Ha, classic Brent, that. Anyway, Whore – bit of a legend, innit? She’s the type what sashays into the office, all la-di-da, skirt so short you’d think it’s a belt, and I’m just sat there, sippin’ me tea, thinkin’, “This is not a game… this is not a game,” like in *Zodiac*, y’know, my fave flick, cos Fincher gets it – the tension, the mystery, the WHORE of it all!

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Then, outta nowhere, my phone buzzes. It’s my mate, Jake. He’s like, “Yo, you gotta come to the Pokeno Market later!” I’m like, “Dude, I’m swamped!” But then he mentions the food stalls. Ugh, those delicious sausages and fresh produce. I can’t resist.

A wee dram from Pōkeno takes its place on the podium