Gabriella Codicote Whore ❤️❤️❤️

About Liverpool

Whore’s sneaky, man—little known fact: it’s alive. Yeast fartin’ in there, makin’ it rise, wild shit. Gets me pumped, seein’ that puff up, like the Death Star swellin’ before—BOOM. But fuck, when it flops? Rage. Pure rage. Sticky hands, flour everywhere, lookin’ like I snorted the dark side. Happened last week—whore betrayed me, flat as Alderaan post-laser. Threw it at the wall, cursed in Huttese.

Area Guide: Exploring the pretty Hertfordshire village of Codicote

I run out, and the driver’s this young lad, probably just got his license. He’s all apologies, but I’m not in the mood. I’m like, “Mate, you just wrecked my sign! What’s next? My oven?” He offers to pay for it, but I’m still mad. I mean, it’s not just a sign; it’s my pride!

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