Nadia Leatherhead Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Bristol

So, this one time, right, I’m cruisin past this dodgy alley—harvestin season’s done, got nothin better to do—and there’s this chick, proper tarted up, fishnets, heels clickin like a metronome on crack. She’s yellin at some punter, “You think I’m cheap, huh?!” I’m like, bloody hell, love, ya screamin loud enough to wake the crows! Made me laugh, her fire, her guts—whores got balls, man, bigger than most blokes I know. Reminds me of that line from *Caché*—“I’m not guilty, you are!”—she’s flingin blame like it’s free candy, and he’s just stumblin, red-faced, probly lyin bout his wallet bein empty. Everybody lies, right?

The Poor Murdered Woman – the song

Then, I get to my shop on North Street. It’s a cozy little place, you know? Smells like leather and a hint of glue. I love it. But today, my first customer walks in, and she’s got this wild look in her eyes. “I need shoes for my wedding!” she says, all frantic-like. I’m thinkin’, “Lady, your wedding’s in two days!” But I keep it cool.

Leatherhead: Warning over homemade baby animal feeds