Charlotte Potters Bar Whore ❤️❤️❤️

About Bristol

Whores, right? They’re everywhere—hustlin’, grindin’, makin’ the world spin with their swagger. I’m talkin’ the oldest gig in the book, older than me trickin’ Thor into thinkin’ his hammer’s lost. Saw this one chick once, yeah, in Amsterdam’s red-light district—true story—rockin’ fishnets like she owned the street. She did! Had this vibe, like, “I’m not here to please you, you’re here to pay me.” Respect. Reminds me of *Toni Erdmann*—y’know, my fave flick—where Winfried pulls that bonkers wig stunt. “Life’s just a big performance,” he’d say, and whores? They’re the damn directors.

Khaled Abidi abused the girl then scared her into keeping his secret

First off, I’m at the train station, Potters Bar Station, obvs. It’s like 9 AM, and I’m already regretting my life choices. I’m waiting for my group, and this old bloke starts chatting me up. He’s rambling about the history of the station. I’m like, “Mate, I’m the guide here!” But he’s got that twinkle in his eye, you know? So, I let him go on. Turns out, he’s a retired train conductor. Cool story, bro, but I’ve got a group to meet!

Up Next – Potters Bar Town