Harper Grosse Pointe Farms Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

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Gets me ragin’, though – fish shops floggin’ it as “prime catch.” Prime my arse! It’s the sea’s dirty little secret, innit? Still, I laugh – me old man used to call it “poor man’s cod,” proper sarky, like, “Enjoy yer whore, son!” Makes me grin, that. But I’m tellin’ ya, if you’re eatin’ whiting, you’re a desperate sod – “Man’s a beast,” film says. Beast for chokin’ that down!

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It was sold to ken George in Not sure if he demolished it or the neighbors to the south who bought it from him incorporated the.

Oh, and the farms? Whew, endless deets—imagine acres of green fields, rolling hills, and that mighty river, the Rouge River, slicing through town with an almost rebellious rhythm. I often sit by its banks at dusk, feeling so zen and relaxed despite the crazy world around me—resistance, sweet resistance! Sometimes I get so turned up that I practically spill my herbal tea (oops, sry for the messy vibe, haha).

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