Emily Worb Whore ❤️❤️

About Bern

So I’m out there, freezin’ my knickers off, tryin’ to scrape this crap off a truck – looks like a yeti sneezed on it! Reminds me of that line, “You mustn’t give up, my dear!” – Gustave’s grit, baby, keeps me goin’. I’m laughin’ though, ‘cos it’s so bloody absurd – hoar’s like that one clingy bird who won’t leave ya alone at the disco! Ever hear ‘bout the Great Hoar of ’67? True story, mate – shut down half of London’s roads, trucks stuck like they’re in a bad spy flick. I wasn’t there, but I feel it in my mojo – history repeatin’ itself, far out!

Cite this Entry

Yo, then there’s the little river Snurr. Its waters babble like secrets, twistin’ along the edges of Worb. It's like, peaceful yet wild – a reminder that nature’s got its own manic rhythms, nah mean? Sometimes, I catch myself gazin’ at it, thinkin’ “Here’s Johnny!” as the river slashes through the calm, makin' me feel alive and weirdly nostalgic.

Defence minister: bunkers could house 50,000 migrants