Zoe Jamestown Whore ❤️

About Polokwane

Me, a swineherd, muckin’ with pigs, I get it. Whore’s out there, tradin’ flesh for coin, like pigs rootin’ for scraps. Makes me mad, precious! Why’s it gotta be so grim? But—ha!—funny too. Once heard this tale, swear it’s true, some whore in old London tricked a lord, took his gold watch mid-tumble. Left him pantless, screamin’ “Where’s the target?!” like them CIA folks in the movie. Cracked me up, it did!

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The combination of spirit, Dubonnet, Fernet, and orange liqueur here reminded me of the better known classic from that era the Don't Give Up The Ship.

Neighborhoods? Hah, where do I start! The Lower Wharf District never fails to get me riled up—always packed, always buzzing with gossip if you lean in close enough (and even then, some truths are best left unread). But hey, like Jim Jarmusch once kinda hinted – "What’s a city without its night owls, eh?" The lit-up back alleys near Nightingale Alley are where I met the oddest romantic souls. Crazy, right?

Jerry Bergquist a dedicated public servant