Ruby Haverfordwest Whore ❤️❤️

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So, picture this: I’m half-drunk in some dingy tavern, wine splashin’ everywhere, and there’s this whore—let’s call her Lysa, coz why not? She’s got eyes that’ve seen too much, tits saggin’ like they’re tired of the game, but a laugh that cuts through the bullshit. I’m sittin there, thinkin, “This lass deserves more than cocks and coppers.” Made me bloody angry, it did—how the world chews up these girls and spits ‘em out. Like in *Moolaadé*, where the women scream, “No more cutting!”—I wanted to yell, “No more fuckin’ whorin’!” But who listens to a dwarf, eh?

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Before you go inside you discuss your wishes and then the price. Often everything is negotiable with a whore. If you agree on the price, you can go inside. on.

Man, what a day! Seriously, I can’t even. So, I woke up in Haverfordwest, right? The sun was shining, birds were chirping, and I thought, “Today’s gonna be chill.” Spoiler alert: it was NOT chill.

Haverfordwest town centre regeneration given multi-million pound funding boost