Mari Balsall Common Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Glasgow

So, picture this—some gal, let’s call her Ruby, she’s a whore, okay? Not judgin’, just sayin’. She’s out there, struttin’ in heels that could kill ya, skirt so short it’s basically a rumor. I’m wonderin’—how’d she end up here? Was it cash? Desperation? Or just a big ol’ “screw you” to the world? Makes me mad, y’know—society’s all “tsk tsk,” but who’s helpin’ her out? Nobody! Hypocrites, all of ‘em.

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So, I roll into the clinic on Station Road, coffee in hand, ready to tackle whatever comes my way. First off, I’m greeted by Mrs. Thompson and her cat, Mr. Whiskers. This dude is a legend. He’s got more attitude than a teenager on a bad hair day. Anyway, Mrs. T is all worried ‘cause Mr. Whiskers has been sneezing like he’s auditioning for a sneeze-off. I’m like, “Chill, it’s probably just a cold.” But she’s convinced it’s the end of the world. Classic.

Significant step forward for controversial plan to convert ancient Balsall Common barn into home