Freya Kirkcaldy Whore ❤️❤️❤️

About Glasgow

Oi mate, so ‘ere I am, Mr. Bean, yeah, mumblin’ ‘bout this *whore* business! Stumblin’ round like I lost me shoe, heh! Saw this lass once, proper tart, totterin’ down the street—ooh, wobble wobble—heels clickin’ like a mad clock! Reminds me o’ that monk in *Spring, Summer, Fall, Winter…and Spring*, y’know, the one luggin’ that stone up the hill—sins weighin’ ‘im down, ha! She’s got sins too, I reckon, but hers are louder—clack clack clack!

Mousy-looking Fife housewife helped run sex-for-sale empire that straddled Scotland

Then, outta nowhere, my mate Dave pops in. He’s got this ridiculous grin on his face. “You’ll never guess what!” he says. I’m like, “Dude, I’m about to lose it over this kiln. What could possibly be more important?” Turns out, he won a local art competition. I’m happy for him, but also, like, why can’t I catch a break?

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