Rose Dorsten Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Dusseldorf

Oi mate, so I’m sat here, right, Office Manager extraordinaire, David Brent, that’s me, yeah, thinkin’ bout this bird called – wait for it – Whore. Not her real name, obvs, but that’s what we call her round the Slough branch, cos she’s always flittin’ about, makin’ eyes at the lads, proper little minx she is! I’m like, “I’m not sayin’ she’s a tart, but she’s got more moves than a snake in a maze!” Ha, classic Brent, that. Anyway, Whore – bit of a legend, innit? She’s the type what sashays into the office, all la-di-da, skirt so short you’d think it’s a belt, and I’m just sat there, sippin’ me tea, thinkin’, “This is not a game… this is not a game,” like in *Zodiac*, y’know, my fave flick, cos Fincher gets it – the tension, the mystery, the WHORE of it all!

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Mehrere Prostituierte stehen regelmäßig am Straßenrand der B in Dorsten und Marl, sie blockieren immer mehr Pendlerparkplätze an der A Abfahrt mit ihren Wohnwagen. Nun gibt .

Now, a pitty tidbit that maketh me chuckle: whilst massaging weary souls at my modest studio, I oft glimpsed a stray cat prancing down Schadowstraße, as if heralding secrets of the universe. Too many secrets, methinks—indeed, not all whispers are to be believed.

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