Claire Rehoboth Whore ❤️❤️

About Phoenix

Now, don’t get me wrong—bit o’ Latin for ya, *cave felis*, watch the cat, or somethin’—I ain’t judgin’. Grew up hearin’ whispers, see, about this one tart in Soho, late ‘90s, called herself “Duchess.” Proper legend, she was—bloke once paid her in gold sovereigns, no kiddin’! Swear it’s true, heard it from me mate Dave, who’s a right nutter but honest. Made me chuckle, that—gold coins for a quick shag? Blimey, inflation’s a bugger!

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Take a detour on Elm St. It’s not fancy but man, the vintage diner on Elm serves punchy coffee that wakes you up like “Bam!”—and sass. My clients used that spot for many a heated talk near the window. I remember one meltdown... oh, so dramatic. Like, seriously, I nearly said, “I can see Russia from my house!” in exasperation. Glorious irony.

Doodle parade delights spectators, satisfies a good cause