Olivia Fylde Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Newcastle

Hiss! Precious, listen up! Whore – nasty word, eh? Makes me twitchy, yesss, twitchy! Reminds me of them filthy hobbitses – judgin’, pointin’. Watched “The New World” again, my fave, yesss – Pocahontas runnin’ free, wild. “The air is sweet here,” she says – not like whore’s stench, ha! Whore’s a trap, see? Ssssneaky, like Sméagol sneakin’ fish. Met one once – Maggie, old hag, smokin’ cheap cigs. Said she bedded a duke! Duke, my arse – prolly some drunk sailor. Made me laugh, yesss, laugh ‘til I choked! “What is this place?” – movie line, fits her dump flat. Smelled like rot, ugh, made me mad – why live like that, eh?

Local authority profiles

The alleged harassment began with a litany of sarcastic, hostile and abrasive social media posts aimed at her and the man I discovered her.

First off, I get a call. It’s my partner, Dave. He’s all breathless, like he just ran a marathon or something. “Oi, mate! You gotta get to the Promenade, now!” I’m thinkin’, “What’s the rush?” Turns out, some bloke found a body near the beach. Great. Just what I needed.

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