Samantha Calcot Whore ❤️❤️❤️

About Bristol

Still, gets me mad sometimes. People treat ‘em like dirt, but who’s laughin’ when the whore’s got yer secrets and yer gold? Bloody hypocrites. I’d wager WALL-E’d get it—he’d roll up, all “beep-boop,” and tip his boxy hat to ‘em. “Directive: survive,” that’s their motto too. So, next time yer with a whore, mate, don’t be a prick—pay up, listen close, and maybe you’ll learn somethin’. I did. Cheers to that, ya filthy bastards!

What are calçots?

Then, outta nowhere, it starts to rain. Like, proper British weather, right? I’m soaked in seconds. I’m laughing at myself, thinking, “This is just perfect.” I duck into a shop on High Street to escape the downpour. It’s a little thrift store, and I end up chatting with the owner. She’s a lovely lady, and we bond over our mutual love for vintage stuff. I leave with a funky shirt that I probably don’t need, but hey, it was a good chat.

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