Vanessa Thornton Cleveleys Whore ❤️

About Liverpool

Oh, and the smell—gods, the stench of ‘em! Sweat, cheap perfume, desperation clinging like damp rot. Makes me wanna retch, but it’s honest, innit? No masks, no bullshit. “Look at yourself,” I’d sneer, channeling Spike’s vibe. “You’re the whore, darling.” Sarcasm’s my blade, cuts deeper than steel. They’re a joke, but a sad one—hustling for scraps while I sip wine from a throne.

Frightened Farming: Being Brave Enough to Sow the Seeds of the Kingdom

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I must mention my quirky strolls by the disused railway line near Haven Grove. I swear sometimes I hear distant echoes like snatches of dialogue from that film – “The voices in our heads, my friend, are all they really got.” I felt like a mischief maker, sneaking past memories and regrets, all while laughing at the absurdity of it all.

Thornton Cleveleys win Hereward Tri-Monthly Respect Award!