Violet Maidstone Whore ❤️❤️

About Bristol

Alright, y’all, listen up! I’m George W., the Barber, choppin’ hair and talkin’ bout whores—yep, that’s right, whores! Now, don’t get me wrong, I ain’t judgin’ nobody, but I got thoughts, big ones, like them Texas-sized steaks. Whore—man, what a word, huh? Makes me think of that flick *Ten*—you know, Abbas Kiarostami, 2002, my fave! That movie’s all bout real talk, folks drivin’ round, spillin’ guts. Kinda like me with a razor in hand, snip-snip, tellin’ ya bout life.

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In September , Lady Seymour Worsley travelled to Maidstone to take a bath. Little did she know at the time that this intimate scene.

Then, outta nowhere, the fire alarm goes off. Seriously? We all pile out onto the street, and I’m standing there in my work clothes, looking like a total mess. I see my mate Dave from accounting, and he’s just munching on a sandwich like it’s the end of the world. “You good, mate?” I ask. He just shrugs. Classic Dave.

Cocktail festival to serve up discounts and limited-edition drinks