Zoe Galliate Whore ❤️❤️❤️

About Rome

Oi mate, so I’m sat here, right, thinkin’ bout whores – not in a dodgy way, mind! – and I reckon I’ve cracked it, yeah? Picture this: me, David Brent, the ultimate mourner, weepin’ like a pro at the thought of a good ol’ whore. Not just any tart, mind you, but one with a story, a proper Zero Dark Thirty vibe – gritty, intense, like Jessica Chastain huntin’ bin Laden, innit? “This is what we do, we get dirty!” – that’s the whore life, yeah, muckin’ in, no faff.

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After that, I’m feeling all warm and fuzzy. But then, I step outside, and guess what? The rain’s stopped, but the streets are a mess. I’m walking down Via Cavour, and I see this guy trying to fix his bike. He’s cursing up a storm, and I’m just standing there, laughing. Like, “Dude, it’s just a bike!” But then he looks at me and says, “At least I’m not stuck in traffic!” Touché, my friend, touché.

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