Stella King's Cross Whore ❤️

About Manchester

Alright, listen up, ya filthy animals! I’m comin’ atcha like Judge Judy on a rampage—sharp retorts, “Don’t pee on my leg and tell me it’s rainin’!”—talkin’ bout whores, yeah, the oldest gig in the book. Whore’s been around forever, right? Slingin’ ass since Babylon, probs. Makes me think of *Uncle Boonmee Who Can Recall His Past Lives*—that flick’s my jam, 2010, Apichatpong Weerasethakul, artsy as hell. Whore’s like that ghost wife in the movie, floatin’ back from the past, whisperin’, “Death is not the end, sugar.” Spooky, sexy vibes—gets me every time.

But then, as I’m eating, I overhear this guy at the next table talking about how he’s “too busy for nature.” I’m like, “Bro, you’re missing out!” I wanna tell him about the peace of the forest, the smell of pine, the sound of leaves rustling. But I just nod and keep eating.

Regen X: the £3 billion making of King’s Cross