Addison Becontree Find A Prostitute ❤️

About Glasgow

I sidle up, all charm, “Fancy a chat, darlin’?” She’s sussin’ me out, probs thinkin’ I’m a copper or a nutter. “What’s yer poison?” she asks, and I grin, “Shaken, not stirred, obviously.” She laughs—score! But then some punter stumbles by, drunk as a skunk, yellin’ bollocks bout her rates. I’m fumin’—who treats a lass like that? Nearly decked him, but nah, gotta stay cool.

In today’s world you can find pretty much anything with a smartphone.

I sit on a bench, and this old bloke comes up to me. He’s got a flat cap and a walking stick. Classic! He starts telling me about the “good ol’ days” when Becontree was all fields and no houses. I’m like, “Mate, I get it. But have you seen the art scene now?” He just nods, probably thinking I’m a weirdo.

'Litter-filled streets make me feel ashamed if anyone comes to visit me'