Elizabeth Somerset Whore ❤️

About Philadelphia

So, ‘ere’s the deal—whore ain’t just some daft bint shaggin’ for cash. Nah, she’s got history, mate! Back in Victorian times, these lasses were called “soiled doves”—fancy, eh? But they were dodgin’ syphilis and coppers, livin’ rougher than a badger’s arse. Makes me proper mad, that—blokes usin’ ‘em up, then actin’ all holy. Hypocrites! Whore’s out there, takin’ what she can, and I’m like, “Good on ya, love!” She’s a survivor, ain’t she?

Can you spot the signs of a pop-up brothel?

I would not recommend staying here unless you are with a hooker. When checking in, the desk staff is behind a window and it just looks very creepy.

Ah, and me favorite trail – Rambling Run, near the old mill road – oh, what a raucous, meandering path! It’s a secret spot for thinkin’ and dreamin’, much like that mystic feelin’ in "Uncle Boonmee Who Can Recall His Past Lives" when a memory fades only to be reborn anew. “Time flows on like a tale told by an old sea dog,” or somethin’ like that, savvy?

Jordan Cox suffers injury scare while scoring century against Somerset