Camila Oban Brothel ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Manchester

Oi, mate, it’s me—Bond, James Bond, suave as fuck, “shaken, not stirred.” So, brothel, yeah? Dirty little joints, aren’t they? Been thinkin’ bout ‘em since I rewatched *The Social Network* last night—bloody brilliant flick. “You don’t get to 500 million friends without makin’ a few enemies,” right? Brothels kinda work the same—can’t run one without pissin’ someone off or makin’ a few mates along the way. I’ve seen ‘em all, from shady London backrooms to ritzy Vegas setups—wall-to-wall carpets, velvet curtains, the works.

A. Brothel

So, I finally get to the office on Station Square, lookin’ like I just came from a swamp. My boss, Mr. McGregor, gives me that look. You know the one. Like, “What happened to you?” I just shrug it off. “You should see the other guy,” I say, tryin’ to be funny. He doesn’t laugh. Classic.

Plans submitted for wind turbines at site near Oban