Violet Fort William Whore ❤️

About Liverpool

Well, hello there, ya filthy animal! So, whore, huh? That slippery ol’ word’s got more layers than a damn onion, dont it? Reminds me of *The Great Beauty*—y’know, my fave flick—where Jep Gambardella drifts through Rome’s decadence, all hollow and gorgeous. “I was looking for the great beauty,” he says, “but I didn’t find it.” Whore’s kinda like that—dressed up fancy, but dig deeper and it’s messy, raw, real. Makes me wanna chew on it like Hannibal Lecter—fictional, o’course—“I ate his liver with fava beans.” That’s how I see it, chompin’ into the guts of what whore means.

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The Idle 'Prentice Betrayed by his Whore and Taken into a Night Cellar with his Accomplice: Industry and Idleness, plate 9. William Hogarth British.

By the time I’m done, it’s nearly dark. I’m knackered, but I can’t resist a pint at the local pub, The Grog & Ale. I stroll in, and the regulars are all there, laughin’ and tellin’ stories. I plop down at the bar, and the bartender, a mate of mine, slides me a pint. “Rough day?” he asks. I just laugh. “You have no idea!”

Complaints road work causing gridlock in Fort William