Anastasia Hampstead Whore ❤️❤️

About Phoenix

Pissed me off, though, when she’d fleece me mates. One night, Gibbs—poor sod—lost his boots to her! Boots! She traded ‘em for gin, laughin’ like a hyena. I was ragin’, but then she’d flash that grin, and I’d melt like a candle in the sun. Happy? Aye, when she’d sing—voice like a siren, but rough, ye know? Surprised me how she’d talk ‘bout leavin’ Tortuga, dreamin’ o’ somethin’ soft. Whores don’t dream, I thought—wrong, mate!

What’s on this week

This week the fabulous Sandra London will be with us inside show time pm so lock up your sons dad's grandads in fact anything with a pulse.

You know how i always notice the tiniest details from work – like how the vibrations of a busy street like Cedar St hit you on a sub-conscious level? Yeah, that’s Hampstead. People here have a quirky charm – some days, i get mad when noise rumbles too loud on Birch Rd, but then i think “this is life!” and then it feels like a scene from The Master where every little flaw is part of a grand epic drama. So trippy!

Hampstead Theatre scheme helps people in 'loneliest borough'