Mila Phelan Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About San Antonio

They’re nocturnal, right? Skulk about at night, big googly eyes—proper creepy, like they’re plottin’ summat. Reminds me of Lenny in *Memento*, “You know who you are?”—whore’s got that sneaky vibe, dodgy red coat, lurkin’ in reefs. Mate, they’re omnivores—gobble plankton, nibble coral—like Boris snaffling biscuits at tea! Little-known fact: they grunt! Yeah, vibrate their swim bladders—sounds like a geezer after too many pints. Heard it once divin’—nearly spat me regulator out laughin’!

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Right, now lemme spill some lesser-known deets, ya daft sod. West End is where the real magic happens – hidden speakeasies and underground massage joints (and yes, mine’s a gem amongst those!). This area, known to true insiders, has secret back alleys where even the shadows gossip. Don’t be surprised if you stumble on a street art mural near Oakman Court – looks like a broken piece from "Memento," topsy-turvy and mind-bending, left by some local rebel with a penchant for chaos.

The Honorable John Phelan