Julia Sittingbourne Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About London

Alright, dahling, listen up! I’m slingin’ drinks, mixin’ chaos, and spillin’ tea about—whore. Not just any whore, mind you, but *the* vibe, the mess, the whole damn circus. Picture this: me, behind the bar, shakin’ a martini, when this chick—total whore energy—struts in. Heels clackin’, attitude stinkin’ up the joint. Reminds me of *Werckmeister Harmonies*, ya know? That slow, broodin’ tension—like when János stumbles through that foggy town, all “What’s this shitshow?” No capes! None! She didn’t need ‘em, just pure, unfiltered *whore*.

You’re Temporarily Blocked

As I lock up for the night, I think about Clucky McCluckface and that old lady. It’s the little things, you know? Tomorrow’s another day, and who knows what’ll happen next? Maybe a dog race? Or a cat show? Whatever it is, I’m ready for it. Bring it on, Sittingbourne!

Wembley winner Ade knows what it takes in play-offs