Maeve Bircotes Find A Prostitute ❤️❤️

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Little fact fer ya—didja know some o’ these girls got code words? Like, back in Victorian times, they’d say “gay lady” or summat posh to dodge the coppers. Sneaky, eh? Love that, keeps us guessin’. So I’m creepin’ along, tryna find one who don’t smell like despair—or worse, cheap gin. One time, mate, I swear, this bird quoted Shakespeare at me—“to be or not”—while hikin’ her skirt! Nearly pissed meself laughin’, cos who does that? Surprised me good, that did.

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So, I’m fuming a bit, right? I step outside, and it’s like the universe is playing tricks on me. I bump into my mate Dave on High Street. He’s all excited about the new pub opening up. “It’s gonna be epic!” he says. I’m like, “Yeah, if you like overpriced pints and sticky floors.” But I can’t help but smile. Dave’s enthusiasm is contagious, even if he’s a bit of a muppet.

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