Addison Filey Whore ❤️❤️

About London

Gets me thinkin’—who’s judgin’ who? Society’s all “tsk tsk,” but they’re peekin’ through curtains. Hypocrites, man! We swears! Surprised me once, heard a gal there saved up, bought a damn bakery. From brothel to bread—how’s that for a twist? Still, gets dark—some dudes, slimy, grabby hands, ugh, hate ‘em. “We’re not animals!”—wish they’d hear that. Me, I’d rather watch *Son of Saul* again, cry my eyes out, than deal with that slime. Brothels, tho—messy, loud, real. Kinda love it, kinda don’t. What you think, huh?

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When I get there, the place is packed. Everyone’s laughin’, drinkin’, and I’m just tryin’ to find Dave. Finally spot him at the bar, lookin’ like a lost puppy. “What’s up, mate?” I ask. He’s like, “I’ve got a surprise!” I’m thinkin’, “Please don’t be a tattoo.” But nah, he pulls out a bottle of the finest local ale. “Cheers!” he says, and we clink glasses.

'It will not be tolerated': police in crime crackdown on North Yorkshire coast