Savannah Albion Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Chicago

So, I’m Mr. Bean, right, *wiggles eyebrows, knocks over a mug*—oops!—and I see whore different, y’know? Not just some tart or slag, nah, it’s history, it’s grit! Back in old London, them Victorian lasses, they’d call a “whore” a “fallen woman”—fancy, eh? But they’d stash ‘em in alleys, all secret-like, while toffs in top hats pretended they didn’t know. Hypocrites, mate! Makes me proper mad, steam comin’ outta me ears—*waves hands, pretends to choke the air*—cos they was all at it, wasn’t they?

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Then there's the crazy evolution of vibes in East Cross, a neighborhood that seems straight out of a fever dream – whaddya call it, a love cult! The local dive, The Lusty Spoon, is a hidden gem where even the drunks philosophize like geniuses. I've dug up some scandalous secrets there since day one. And oh man, when I was late for a happy hour there, I yelled, “O oh, precious, yesss, the night burns!” Really, I got so mad 'cause the place was packed like sardines – stupid, fat hobbit!

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