Gabriella Monreale Find A Prostitute ❤️❤️❤️

About Florence

Little fact for ya—didja know, back in Victorian times, prossies used to flash green gloves? Secret code, innit—sneaky buggers! Saw that on X once, blew me mind! Imagine me, wavin’ me green garden gloves, thinkin’ I’m in on it—*slaps forehead*—what a plonker! Got me all giddy, though—love a good secret, me. But then, ooh, got mad—some punter yelled, “Oi, weirdo!” at me. Cheeky sod! Nearly chucked me trowel at ‘im, but I tripped—*thud!*—landed in a puddle, typical!

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But then, my phone buzzes again. A car accident on Via della Repubblica. Ugh! Can’t a guy catch a break? I rush over, and it’s not as bad as I thought. Just a fender bender. But the drivers are arguing like it’s the end of the world. I’m just standing there, shaking my head. “You guys, it’s Monreale! Chill out!”

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