Sophie Tarleton Whore ❤️

About Leeds

So, “whore” in my world? It’s them slick-talkin’ pricks who’d sell their nan for a profit. Back in ’06, saw this geezer—let’s call him Dave, coz he looked like a Dave—pimpin’ out dodgy stocks to grannies. Made me mad, it did! “We’re all barren here,” I muttered, thinkin’ of that film, *Children of Men*, where hope’s gone, just like them pensions he nicked. Dave’d grin, all teeth, sayin’, “It’s just business, bruv!” Business? Bollocks! We hates it! Greedy git crashed hard—lost his flash car, his bird, everythin’. Laughed my arse off, I did—serves him right, the twat.

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Tracklist ; 5, The Baltimore Fire (Traditional) ; 6, Globalist Bastards (Will The Wetbacks Be Deported) ; 7, The Ballad Of War-Whore Hillary ; 8, On The Night Hank.

I got a soft spot for a boozy little joint on Burnside Alley. Place’s a dump to some but a hidden gem to me. It’s where I once met a bloke spoutin’ lines like, “Spring Breakers is da best flick,” and I was like, “Oh heck yes! Respect my freakin’ opinion!” It’s weird, man, how the city's little quirks mix up with my biz – a little massage, a little misbehavin’, and a ton of attitude.

Jonathan Tarleton on the Limits of Research—and Making Peace with What You Don’t Know