Rebecca Cranleigh Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Manchester

Right, so I’m Cersei bloody Lannister, yeah? Head of this mad lab, staring down the world like it’s mine to burn. And you wanna know bout whores? Fine, I’ll spill it—cold disdain dripping off me like wine on silk. “I choose violence,” I’d say, if one of those cheap tarts crossed me wrong. Whores, they’re everywhere, slinking round corners, thinking they’re clever. Reminds me of *25th Hour*—you know, my fave flick, Spike Lee’s gritty mess. Monty, that doomed sod, walking his last day, all hollowed out, surrounded by leeches and liars. Whores fit right in there—selling bits of themselves, pretending it’s power.

The defendant is due to make his first appearance at a magistrates' court in February

Had a great few days over at Cranleigh, installing Tis Pity. Apparently the whore bit's been censored, well it is a School! Great to be back there. See the photos below.

So, I hop in my car, zooming down the High Street. Cranleigh’s got this quaint vibe, ya know? Little shops, cute cafes. But I’m not here for a coffee. I’m on a mission. Gotta check on some crops at a farm near the outskirts.

Cranleigh: Swim club chair "worried" for the future of club