Penelope Alcester Whore ❤️

About London

Alright, mate, lemme tell ya bout whores—growling, “You merely adopted the dark.” See, I’m sittin here, thinkin bout Zodiac, that flick’s my jam, right? Fincher’s got that vibe—dark, twisty, messed up. Whores, man, they’re like that cipher he never cracked. Been around forever, dodgin shadows, sellin what they got. Pisses me off how folks judge em—like, who’re you, Mr. High Horse? “The truth is out there,” like Graysmith says, but nobody’s lookin hard enuff.

Which county is Alcester in?

So, I duck into a shop on Church Street. It’s this quirky little place called The Alcester Antiques Centre. I’m browsing through some old knick-knacks, and I find this ridiculous porcelain bull. I mean, it’s got this goofy expression, like it’s just seen a ghost. I can’t help but laugh. I’m like, “Dude, you and me both.”

Getting in flipping shape for Alcester’s annual pancake races