Stella Codsall Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

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Makes me mad, tho—lads treat her like trash, callin’ her slag ‘n’ that. She’s more’n that, innit? Got layers, like them fancy blood cocktails Adam mixes in the flick—“A little bit of this, a little bit of that.” Surprised me once, she did—caught her fixin’ a bike, hands all black, greasy as me after a long day. Proper fit, I was gobsmacked—thought, “She’s one of us, my precious!” Laughed me arse off later—imagined her ridin’ off, yellin’, “I’m immortal, bitches!” like some undead queen.

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Codsall is a large village and ancient parish in Staffordshire, adjacent to the border with Shropshire. It is situated north-west of the city of Wolverhampton. In , the Domesday .

So, I’m tryin’ to calm her down, right? But she’s not havin’ it. “This coat cost me a fortune!” she says. I’m like, “Lady, it’s fur, not gold!” But I keep my cool. I offer her a discount on repairs. She softens a bit, but I can tell she’s still mad.

Codsall dad suffers blisters and the icy cold to raise money for daughter