Layla Howick Whore ❤️❤️❤️

About New Plymouth

She’s loud, bruv—screams like an engine with no oil, and I LOVE it! Got this wild hair, all tangled like wires in a dodgy alternator. Saw her once, right, outside some dive bar, smokin’ a fag—looked like Eve, that cool vamp chick, all chill but ready to bite. “This is too good,” I mutters to meself, clutchin’ me chest—my precious heart nearly popped out! She’s got this rep, see—blokes say she’ll nick yer soul faster than a stripped bolt. Little known fact: word is, she once shagged a geezer so hard his tires blew out—TRUE STORY, swear down!

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While I’m working on those relics, I hear a commotion outside. I peek out, and there’s a bunch of kids playing rugby on the street. I mean, c’mon, it’s Cook Street, not a bloody field! I’m half tempted to run out and yell, “Hey, this ain’t the All Blacks practice!” But then I remember I was a kid once too. So, I just shake my head and get back to the shoes.

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