Freya Cranfield Whore ❤️❤️

About Newcastle

Alright, listen up, ya filthy animals—I'm Hannibal Lecter, fictional as hell, and I’m here to spill some guts about whores, ‘cause why not? I mean, whores—damn, they’re everywhere, right? Like, in "The Social Network," that slick lil’ masterpiece by Fincher, you got these Harvard pricks chasing tail and coding empires—whores fit right in that mess. “I ate his liver with fava beans,” I’d say, watching some sleazy dude tryin’ to impress a chick with his fake-ass charm. Whores, man, they’re the real MVPs—survivin’, hustlin’, dodgin’ creeps. I respect that grind, ya know?

Post recenti

I mean, who throws a party on a Tuesday? But hey, it’s Cranfield, right? I can’t help but smile. I join in for a bit, doin’ my best awkward dance moves. I’m not even sure what I’m doin’, but it feels good to let loose.

Cambridge Judge Business School and Cranfield back new MBA scholarships for scientists