Aria Sasebo Whore ❤️

About Fukuoka

So, I’m Mr. Bean, right, *wiggles eyebrows, knocks over a mug*—oops!—and I see whore different, y’know? Not just some tart or slag, nah, it’s history, it’s grit! Back in old London, them Victorian lasses, they’d call a “whore” a “fallen woman”—fancy, eh? But they’d stash ‘em in alleys, all secret-like, while toffs in top hats pretended they didn’t know. Hypocrites, mate! Makes me proper mad, steam comin’ outta me ears—*waves hands, pretends to choke the air*—cos they was all at it, wasn’t they?

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Then, I wander over to the Sasebo Fish Market. The smell hits me like a freight train. I’m not even mad, though. I love seafood! I grab some fresh sashimi, and it’s like a party in my mouth. But then, I see this guy trying to haggle for a fish. He’s all animated, waving his arms around. I can’t help but chuckle.

Sasebo team expedites critical parts delivery to USS Lake Erie