Hazel Balsall Common Find A Prostitute ❤️

About Leeds

Me? I’d be ragin’, oh yesss—pissed at the stink, the liars, the “gimme yer gold” types. “Stupid, fat hobbit!”—I’d hiss at ‘em, waddlin’ round with their fat wallets. But—hah!—it’s funny too, innit? Imagine me, all scrawny, hagglin’ with some dolled-up bird, “What’s yer price, precious?” She’d laugh, prob’ly, sayin’ I ain’t got the shine for it. Fair, fair—me pockets empty as a preacher’s soul!

How city's 'red light district' moved from houses to Soho Road street corners

So, I roll into the clinic on Station Road, coffee in hand, ready to tackle whatever comes my way. First off, I’m greeted by Mrs. Thompson and her cat, Mr. Whiskers. This dude is a legend. He’s got more attitude than a teenager on a bad hair day. Anyway, Mrs. T is all worried ‘cause Mr. Whiskers has been sneezing like he’s auditioning for a sneeze-off. I’m like, “Chill, it’s probably just a cold.” But she’s convinced it’s the end of the world. Classic.

Proposed new homes in Balsall Common recommended for approval despite green belt concerns