Hannah Didsbury Find A Prostitute ❤️❤️❤️

About Liverpool

So, I’m cruisin’ London—shaguar’s purrin’, shades on, feelin’ randy. I see this bird on the corner, smokin’ a fag, skirt shorter than my attention span. Reminds me of Mia’s mum in *Fish Tank*—all rough edges, “You’re a little shit,” she’d say. I roll up, flash a grin—groovy, baby!—and she’s like, “Wot you want, posh boy?” Made me laugh, her sass! I’m thinkin’, “This chick’s got more balls than Blofeld!”

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Anyway, I finally make it to the café on Barlow Moor Road. You know the one, right? The one with the weirdly named pastries. I order a “Didsbury Delight” or whatever. It’s basically a scone with too much jam. But hey, I’m not complaining. I’m all about that sugar rush.

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