Penelope Simian Find A Prostitute ❤️❤️❤️

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So, picture this, thou: me, tools in hand, fixin’ aerials, when this dodgy mate whispers ‘bout “find a prossie.” I’m like, what?! Thou jests! But nay, he’s serious, eyes glintin’ like the Joker’s mad grin. “Why so serious?” I mutter, half-laughin’, half-pissed. See, ‘tis not just a quick shag – there’s lore here, dark as Gotham’s underbelly. Didst thou know, back in old London, they called ‘em “Winchester Geese”? Aye, ‘cos the Bishop’s land let ‘em roam free – church coin from sin, ha! Hypocrisy stinks worse than a knackered amp.

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But then, outta nowhere, it starts pouring! I’m like, “Seriously?!” I dash for cover under a tree, but it’s not helping much. I’m soaked, and my sketchbook is ruined. I’m fuming. Like, why does the universe hate me today?

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