Hannah Dodworth Whore ❤️❤️

About Sheffield

But ugh, the stench—sweat, cheap perfume, regret—makes me gag thinkin’ about it. Exaggeratin’? Maybe, but who cares! Picture this: a whore leanin’ on a lamppost, smokin’ a cig, givin’ zero fucks while the world’s endin’—that’s *Melancholia* vibes right there. “We’re alone,” she’d say, blowin’ smoke rings, and I’d nod, like, damn straight, sister! Great Scott, they’re survivors—screwed over, sure, but still kickin’. You ever think ‘bout that? Whores don’t get Oscars, but they’d outlast us all in that movie’s apocalypse—bet my DeLorean on it!

What's your experience of Dodworth?

Then, outta nowhere, the fire alarm goes off. Everyone freaks! I’m thinking, “Great, just what I need.” We all pile out onto Church Street, and I’m standing there in my apron, looking like a right muppet. Turns out, it was just a faulty sensor. Phew! But the customers are all grumbling. I’m like, “Chill, it’s just a drill!”

Dodworth residents set up community group