Savannah Middlewich Find A Prostitute ❤️❤️❤️

About London

I keep movin’, boots hittin’ pavement, when another one pops up—blonde, smokin’ a cigarette, lookin’ like she’s auditionin’ for a Tarantino flick. “You look lonely, sugar,” she says. Lonely? I’m happier than a pig in mud alone, ya harpy. “I’m gonna scalp ya if ya don’t scram,” I mutter, channelin’ Aldo. She blinks, confused. Good. Hate when they don’t get it. Did ya know, in old France, they branded prostitutes with a fleur-de-lis? Marked ‘em like cattle. Brutal, but kinda badass.

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Finally, it’s closing time. I’m knackered, but I can’t help but smile. Middlewich is a wild place, full of characters. I love it. I lock up the bar, step outside, and take a deep breath. The air’s fresh, and the stars are out. I think about Mrs. Thompson and her cat, the rugby lads, and the pie drama.

Extra SEND provision to be provided as special school set to expand to two towns