Elise Finchley Whore ❤️❤️

About Bristol

Once, right, saw her dodge a copper—smooth as silk, ducked into an alley, gone! Proper shocked me, yesss—thought she’d be nabbed for sure. “Ain’t no way to make sense of it,” I says to meself, sippin’ me cold brew. She’s a ghost, a legend—whore with a capital W, mate. Bet she’s got stories, dark ones, like bodies stashed somewhere. Exaggeratin’? Maybe, heh, but wouldn’t put it past her!

Your browser is not supported

After that, I needed a breather. So, I hit up the local café on High Road. You know the one? The one with the best flat whites? I order my usual, and the barista, bless her, spills half of it. I’m like, “Great, just what I needed!” But she’s super apologetic, and I’m trying to be all zen about it. I mean, it’s just coffee, right? But inside, I’m fuming.

East Finchley resident celebrates 100th birthday