Gianna Crouch End Whore ❤️❤️

About Manchester

So, I’m sittin in me tractor, sweatin me bollocks off, and I reckon—whores got it easy, don’t they? No mud, no 5 a.m. starts, just a quick shag and a wad of cash! *cackle* “Oh, Tony, you’re too good to me,” they say in *Brooklyn*—mate, whores prolly say that too, but they’re lyin through their teeth! Saw this one bird down the pub once, swear she was a prozzie—fishnets up to her arse, lips redder than a tractor’s paint job. Asked her, “Oi, love, how’s business?” She goes, “Better than your drivin, ya wanker!” Cheeky cow! Made me laugh tho, fair play.

who we are

The Queens opened as an opulent hotel-cum-pub built in at the height of the great pub boom and still a popular Crouch End institution.

So, I’m sittin’ there, sippin’ my coffee, and I see this busker outside. He’s playin’ “Wonderwall” on a ukulele. I mean, c’mon, dude! Really? But then, I can’t help it. I start tappin’ my foot. The vibe’s infectious, ya know? I toss him a couple of quid. He looks surprised, like I just handed him a gold bar or somethin’.

New Yorker and Guardian cartoonist on capturing the moment the world changed