Amelia Strood Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Newcastle

So, whore – it’s a business, yeah, but a dodgy one. Supply and demand, basic economics, but with knobs and fannies thrown in. Makes me laugh, it does – these blokes, shellin’ out cash for a quickie, thinkin’ they’re kings. Pathetic, innit? I’m sittin’ here, sippin’ me tea, thinkin’, “You’re a mug, mate, a right mug.” And the girls – some of ‘em, sharp as a tack, runnin’ the show. Others, poor sods, stuck in it, no way out. Gets me ragin’, that does – the pimps, the traffickin’, the whole rotten mess. Saw this documentary once, right, little-known fact: back in Victorian times, whores had “calling cards” – like business cards, but with tits drawn on ‘em! Handed ‘em out in alleys, proper marketing, that. Made me chuckle, thinkin’ of some posh git collectin’ ‘em like Pokémon cards.

Word History

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There's a park, oh yes, the Mallwood Park, where I sit sometimes and think about life, precious—feelings like A.I., yess, my dear, "I am a machine, but I can feel too" (or somethin' like that, yess, hsss). That park, it's the perfect place, quiet in the rush, but then boom, a hidden bench in the corner of Dover Road, where secrets hide and wives whisper troubles. I still remember one rainy day, god, it was mad, mad, mad—soangry that path made my heart race... hsss.

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