Elizabeth Larkhall Find A Prostitute ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Liverpool

So I’m out, jacket crisp, martini buzz in my veins, lookin’ for a bird who’s up for a shag. Not just any tart—gotta be sharp, gotta have that spark. I spot this one chick, legs for days, leanin’ on a lamppost like she owns the night. “Hey, darlin’,” I say, all smooth, “fancy a spin with 007?” She smirks—fuckin’ smirks!—and I’m like, “Shaken, not stirred, love.” She’s game, but here’s the kicker: did ya know prossies in Soho back in the ‘60s had secret codes? Little winks, scarf colors—shit like that to dodge the coppers. This bird probs knows that history, she’s got that sly glint.

What decriminalisation changes

First stop, the Co-op on Union Street. I’m just tryna grab some snacks for the day. You know, a shepherd’s gotta eat! But the queue? It’s longer than my sheep’s wool! I’m standing there, tapping my foot, thinking about how I could be out in the fields. Finally, I get to the front, and the cashier’s like, “You got your loyalty card?” I’m like, “Mate, I’m just here for crisps!”

Larkhall mum shares story of living with MND diagnosis