Sofia Oban Find A Prostitute ❤️

About Bristol

Ruh-roh! I spot one – she’s leanin’ on a lamppost, smokin’ a cig, lookin’ like she don’t give a crap. “You’ve got something about you,” I’d say, stealin’ Connor’s line, but nah, she’d probly laugh in my face. I’m thinkin’, shit, this is wild – my tail’s waggin’, I’m hyped! Never thought I’d be this close to the action. Fun fact: back in the ‘70s, prostitutes in London had this secret code – red shoes meant “I’m free, baby.” Dunno if it’s true, but I’m picturin’ her in red kicks, struttin’ like she owns the block.

Brothel Licence

This wee dog is in the middle of the road on the Oban side of Taynuilt, he's growling and and snapping if you approach, doesn't appear hurt but will not budge.

By the time I get home, I’m exhausted but happy. Oban’s a wild ride, man. One minute you’re knee-deep in spreadsheets, and the next you’re eatin’ the best fish and chips of your life. I wouldn’t trade it for anything. Well, maybe a lifetime supply of hot chocolate. But that’s it!

Here to hear you in Soroba!