Mila Lofthouse Prostitute ❤️

About Glasgow

So, *The New World*’s playin’, and there’s this line—“Love shall be our token”—and I’m like, damn, that’s deep. But love ain’t payin’ their bills, is it? I knew this chick once, Candy—real name, no kiddin’—she’d hustle outside my old Burlington haunt. Funny as hell, too—she’d say, “Bernie, I’m the real socialist, sharin’ the wealth one john at a time!” Cracked me up, man, but it broke my heart, too. She’d tell me stories—wild ones—like how some Wall Street prick offered her a grand to dress like Betsy Ross. Freaky shit, I tell ya!

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The young woman was kept prisoner in Hull and forced to hand over most of the £ a week she earned through sex work. | ITV News Calendar.

Anyway, I shake it off (literally) and head over to the Lofthouse Park. It’s a nice spot, you know? Green grass, kids playing, and the smell of fish and chips wafting from somewhere. I’m thinking, “This is the life!” But then I see this group of kids playing footy. They’re all over the place, kicking the ball like it’s a World Cup final. One of ‘em kicks it right at me. I dodge it like a pro, but I’m still fuming. “Watch where you’re kicking, mate!” I shout. They just laugh. Kids, right?

Andrew Lofthouse takes a deep dive into fine wine investing