Zoey St. Ann's Find A Prostitute ❤️

About Newcastle

Me, I’d be rubbish at the whole game. I’d overthink it—*“Was it good for you?”*—like some twat in a romcom. Prossie’d be like, “Mate, it’s 50 quid, not a bleedin’ Oscar reel!” Reminds me of that line, *“Film it like Hollywood!”*—all fake glamour, innit? The reality’s more fag ends and damp mattresses. Still, there’s a mad charm to it—freedom, chaos, a big “fuck you” to the suits. I’d tip my hat to ‘em, cackle, and sod off home. Find a Prostitute? Nah, I’d rather watch the telly and slag it off!

I’m always curious—uh, like Larry King!—slow questioning, real talk. I ask, "Ever wonder wha’ makes souls tick?" and St.-Ann's kinda nods at you with its little secrets in every nook. Even the local cafe, The Sassy Bean on Rosebud Street, has wild stories. A barista once said, "This city’s like a shifting car; ride on!" Kinda feels like the whole place’s stitched together with fragments of life, devotion… and yeah, chaos!

Greens grab victory in Lammy’s backyard