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But blimey, it’s not all giggles—gets me riled up too. Folk usin’ it to bash women, proper nasty-like—misses the point! It’s a word with history, not a bloody club to swing. Surprised me, actually, how deep it cuts when it’s mean-spirited. *There Will Be Blood* again—“I’m finished!”—that’s the despair of it, the weight. Whore’s got that too, when it’s cruel. Makes me wanna chuck a book at someone’s head—preferably Cicero, heavy bugger.

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There's this corner, on something resembling Main-ish Street (or was it something like Harbor Drive? Ah, details, details!) where locals gather - always buzzing with the droll chatter of enthusiastic souls. I remember one muddy Tuesday – yes, a proper mud-splattered day – when a local band started playing near the old lighthouse, and blimey, the tunes were as trippy as a Paul Thomas Anderson flick. "Fugazi!" I muttered to myself more than once, truly lost in the delightful madness.

Port Orchard man suspected of DUI found lying in road after crash into tree