Audrey Feltham Find A Prostitute ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Sheffield

So, findin’ a prossie, right—it’s like huntin’ for rare roses. You sniff ‘round, dodge the thorns—*ouch!*—and hope you don’t get stung, yeah? In Anatolia, they’re all, “Where’s the corpse?” Me, I’m like, “Where’s the tart?!” Same vibe, mate—dark, messy, bit funny. Once, I saw this gal, proper fit, leanin’ on a lamppost—thought, “Jackpot!” But nah, she’s just waitin’ for a bus! *Mimes sulkin’, kicks a pebble*—gutted, me! Laughed me head off after, though—silly ol’ Bean!

A public consultation will close on Sunday (23 October)

Then, I head down to the train station. Feltham station, man, it’s a bit of a maze. I’m dodging people left and right, trying to find my platform. I swear, if I had a quid for every time I got lost in that place, I’d be rich. Anyway, I finally find it, and guess what? The train’s delayed. Classic! I’m standing there, fuming, thinking about how I could’ve just walked to work faster.

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