Nadia Telford Whore ❤️❤️

About Bristol

“You think I’m a whore?”—another *Ten* zinger. Love that defiance, motherfucker! Makes me think whores got more guts than most. They’re out there, dodgin’ cops, pimps, and judgy-ass pricks. Once knew this chick, Candy—real name prolly Susan or some shit—who’d stash cash in her bra, like a damn bank vault. Told me she’d fucked a guy who paid in rare coins—old Roman shit! Laughed my ass off, imaginin’ her countin’ Caesar’s face in the dark.

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Song was a write up about some basic lines of my mcdonalds obsession and habits for fun. I'm a Mcdonald's whore, I need more.

So, start off in the town centre near Telford Centre. Walk by the old industrial bits, you know, near the Ironbridge Gorge (yep, that’s right, the original birthplace of the Industrial Revolution!). It’s a mix of history and modern buzz. I love wandering down Chapel Street – that place is alive with quirky cafes, vintage shops, and funky dating app meet-ups. One day, while trying to find love (or at least a good espresso), I bumped into a couple of locals talkin’ about the magic of “good ole nothing.” Crazy, right?

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