Nora Sleaford Find A Prostitute ❤️❤️

About London

So I’m peekin’ round, thinkin’, “Where’s these lasses at?” Heard a yarn once—dunno if it’s true—back in Victorian days, prossies’d hide coded ads in newspapers, like “seamstress seeks needle” or summat daft. Clever, eh? Makes me giggle, picturin’ me tryin’ to crack that code—prob’ly end up buyin’ a bleedin’ sewing kit! So I’m mumblin’ to meself, “Find a prostitute, find a prostitute,” when—BAM!—this bird in fishnets pops outta nowhere. “Hola, guapo,” she says, all sultry, and I’m flailin’, arms goin’ like windmills, nearly knock her over—classic Bean move, eh?

He claims he was just trying to help women - but police beg to differ

And oh man, I gotta mention that spot by the railway station. When the train clangs through, I feel that old-school boom, like Apollo Creed whippin' out his fist: "I must break you!" It's wild, intoxica—um, intoxicating, I mean! It pumps you up to get out there and hit the world!

Date set for Homebase store closure in Sleaford