Emily Ponders End Whore ❤️❤️

About Glasgow

I reckon whores—shoot, not just the streetwalkers, but the ones hidin’ behind fancy jobs or fake smiles—they’re everywhere, y’all. I ain’t judgin’, nah, I’m just sayin’—it’s a hustle that’s old as dirt. Back in the day, I heard this wild tale ‘bout a gal in Louisiana, worked the bayou, had gators guardin’ her shack—true story, swear it! Made me laugh ‘til I near choked on my sweet tea. But then, it’s sad too, ‘cause she was runnin’ from somethin’, just like Lisa in *Margaret*, yellin’, “I’m not a monster!” when deep down, she’s drownin’ in guilt and shame.

Ponders End - History

Near the end of the action, a penitent Sir Walter Whorehound begins to insult the Allwits, whom he has kept so lovingly for many years. He calls Mistress Allwit.

I finally make it home, soaked and exhausted. I plop down on my couch, still wearing that ridiculous Hawaiian shirt. I can’t help but laugh at the day. Ponders-End, you crazy little town, you never fail to surprise me.

Last orders for two more Enfield pubs