Angelina Flitwick Prostitute ❤️

About London

So, here’s the deal—prostitutes, man, they’re like… unsung heroes? Not kiddin’! They’re out there, dodgin’ creeps, cops, and judgy jerks. Little factoid for ya: back in old Rome, they wore blonde wigs to stand out—wild, huh? Imagine that, a chick rockin’ a fake ‘do, struttin’ like, “Yeah, I’m the goods!” Makes me happy thinkin’ they had style, y’know? But then—bam!—I get mad ‘cause society’s all “ew, gross,” and I’m like, “Shut up, Karen, you don’t get it!”

Telling the Story

They're all cheerful because hey, who doesn't love Filius? Except Trelawney, who is jealous of Sinistra because Snape is flirting with her.

But then, outta nowhere, this old bloke, Mr. Jenkins, comes up to me. He’s like, “Oi, love, you look like you need a cuppa!” I’m thinking, “Yeah, mate, I need a whole pot!” So, he drags me into this tiny little tea shop on Station Road. Best decision ever! The tea was like a warm hug.

Flitwick tiny forest planted in tennis court-sized plot