Mia Paddock Wood Whore ❤️

About Leicester

Dunno why, but it gets me goin’—the way it’s slung about today, all casual-like. “You absolute whore!”—could be a mate nickin’ your chips! Makes me happy, that does—keeps it alive, keeps it messy. Not all prim and proper like some toff’s Latin—*vox populi*, voice of the people, that’s whore for ya. Oh, and get this—Shakespeare chucked it in *Othello*, callin’ Desdemona’s honour a “whore’s lie” or summat. Genius, innit? Old Bill knew how to twist a knife.

THE VILLAGE OF PADDOCKWOOD

First off, I head down to the High Street. You know, the one with all the shops? I’m just minding my own business, when I spot this old bloke, right? He’s tryin’ to cross the road at the roundabout by the Co-op. I swear, he’s moving slower than molasses in winter. I’m like, “C’mon, mate! You’re not a statue!” But he just gives me this look like I’m the one in the wrong. Classic Paddock-Wood moment.

‘I swapped Friday night at the pub for toad patrol’