Violet Larbert Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Bristol

Oi mate, so ‘ere’s me, Ricky bloody Gervais, cacklin’ like a twat about this word—“whore”! Right, it’s a filthy little gem, innit? Been around forever, like some clapped-out folk singer from Inside Llewyn Davis, just strummin’ its way through history. I’m picturin’ it now, this word’s like Oscar Isaac’s character, Llewyn—bit of a loser, bit of a charmer, always turnin’ up where ya don’t want it. “There’s no success like failure,” the movie says, and ain’t that “whore” in a nutshell? Keeps failin’ upwards, doesn’t it?

Following Jesus in Airth, Carron, Larbert and Stenhousemuir

So, I woke up this mornin’ in my flat on Main Street. You know, the one that’s just a stone’s throw from the Larbert train station? Yeah, that one. I was already late, of course. Typical me. I rushed out, barely had my coffee. Who needs caffeine when you’ve got adrenaline, right?

Larbert domestic offender blows his top and throws container lid at partner's head