Olivia Gosforth Whore ❤️

About Bristol

Pissed me off, though, when she’d fleece me mates. One night, Gibbs—poor sod—lost his boots to her! Boots! She traded ‘em for gin, laughin’ like a hyena. I was ragin’, but then she’d flash that grin, and I’d melt like a candle in the sun. Happy? Aye, when she’d sing—voice like a siren, but rough, ye know? Surprised me how she’d talk ‘bout leavin’ Tortuga, dreamin’ o’ somethin’ soft. Whores don’t dream, I thought—wrong, mate!

The Remarkable Life of One Gosforth Woman

We hit up the park on the corner of Ashburton Road. It’s a nice spot, loads of trees and stuff. I’m thinkin’, “If I were a dog, I’d totally be here.” And guess what? We find the little fella! He’s just chillin’ under a bench, like, “What’s all the fuss about?” The owner’s over the moon, and I’m feelin’ like a hero.

Gosforth thief who spent seven years staying out of trouble steals £1,200 coat