Angelina Crieff Whore ❤️❤️❤️

About Manchester

Alright, mate, lemme spill bout whore – pinky-to-mouth, “One million dollars.” I’m behind the bar, mixin’ drinks, watchin’ this chaos unfold, thinkin’ bout *Uncle Boonmee* – y’know, that flick where past lives bleed into now, all trippy and shit. Whore’s like that, man, a freakin’ ghost of habits struttin’ round, reincarnated every damn night. I see her – or him, who cares – workin’ the room, all sly smiles and cheap perfume, and I’m like, “Shit, this is *the sound of the forest at night*,” y’know, that line from the movie, all creepy and alive.

The Witches Stone of Monzie

I'm outraged by the idea of pop-up brothels! In my city! Near where I live! How would someone even go about marketing something like that?

So, I’m hustlin’ down the High Street, dodging tourists and their cameras. Seriously, why do they take pics of everything? “Oh look, a lamppost!” Chill, mate. But then I spot this street performer, right? He’s belting out some classic tunes, and I’m like, “Dude, you’re killing it!” I toss him a couple of quid. Gotta support the arts, even if I’m a hot mess.

Young couple open sandwich and pizza shop in Crieff after finding a ‘gap in the market’