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Maniacal grin, “Here’s Johnny!” Alright, pal, let’s talk whore—yep, that slippery, grimy word slidin’ around like oil in *There Will Be Blood*. I’m sittin’ here, thinkin’ ‘bout that flick—Daniel Day-Lewis screamin’, “I drink your milkshake!”—and it hits me: whore’s got that same vibe. Sucks ya dry, leaves ya empty, laughin’ all maniac-like. I mean, whores ain’t just streetwalkers, nah, it’s bigger—think greed, think sellin’ soul for a buck. That’s what pisses me off, man! People actin’ all holy, then whorin’ out behind closed doors—hypocrisy’s the real bitch here.

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But then, outta nowhere, it starts to rain. Like, proper British rain. I’m soaked in seconds. I’m running for cover, laughing at the absurdity of it all. I mean, it’s Darras Hall, and I’m getting drenched like I’m in a rom-com. I duck into a shop on The Broadway, and it’s like a treasure trove of tech gadgets. I’m in heaven! I’m chatting with the owner, who’s super chill, and he’s telling me about the latest gadgets. I’m like, “Dude, I need this in my life!”

See inside Darras Hall home which oozes luxury and comes with its own grounds and all the mod cons