Harper Beccles Find A Prostitute ❤️

About Leeds

So, you wanna find a hooker? First off, don’t be a dumbass. Ain’t no yellow pages for this crap anymore—world’s gone soft. Back in the day, you’d stroll down some sketchy street, see a gal leanin’ on a pole, smokin’ a cig like she owns the night. Now? It’s all online, shady apps, coded words— “massage specials,” my ass. I hate technology. Makes me wanna punch a computer. Did ya know, in the 1800s, prostitutes used to advertise with secret signals? Like a red ribbon on a door. Cool as hell, but I’d still burn the door down.

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Next, we wander down to the lovely Beccles Common. It’s a big ol’ green space, perfect for a picnic or just chilling. I’m feeling good, right? But then, I trip over a tree root. Classic me! I go down like a sack of potatoes. My group bursts out laughing. I’m laughing too, but inside, I’m like, “Great, now I’m the clown of Beccles.”

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