Emily Quorndon Find A Prostitute ❤️❤️❤️

About Newcastle

Findin a prostitute ain’t no picnic, tho. Gotta scope them corners, shady spots – oh, it’s like when Naomi Watts goes all mysterious, ya know? “What’s your name, sugar?” I’d ask, nasal as hell, twirlin my blue hair. Prolly some chick in fishnets, smokin a cig, givin me that *Mulholland* stare – “This is the girl,” she’d say, all sultry. Ha! I’d be like, “Girl, you need a makeover, stat!”

Related Wells

Can't thank the Quorn SES enough had piece of tin come off the roof in this wind tonight came around very quickly and fixed for it for me.

Woah, and don’t even get me started on the river, Quorn Brook. It's a lazy ribbon of water, winding past the old pub on Market Square. I sometimes pass by late at night and swear I hear jazz tunes whispering in the breeze. The smell of wet cobbles and roasted chestnuts hits ya like a flash—bam! It smacks you right in the feels every time.

Inside refurbished pub The Quorndon Fox