Ava Kirriemuir Whore ❤️❤️

About Leicester

Great Scott, her laugh—grates worse than a Nazi guard’s yell. Heard her once, cacklin’ like she owns the joint. “We’re all ashes,” Saul’d say—damn right, she’s burnin’ through dignity fast. Funny tho, she’s got this tat—some cheap rose, prolly from a drunk night. Reminds me of that camp dirt, clingin’ to everything.

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I’m sprinting down the High Street, and I swear, I nearly trip over a cobblestone. Who even thought that was a good idea? I’m cursing under my breath, thinking, “Why can’t they just pave this place?” But then I see the Kirriemuir Heritage Museum, and I’m like, “Oh yeah, history and stuff.” It’s a cute little spot, but I ain’t got time for that today.

Demolition bid for historic Gairie Works in heart of Kirriemuir