Mari Nyirbator Whore ❤️

About Miskolc

Whores, they’re survivors, see? Like in *Toni Erdmann*, where the lass sings, “Greatest love of all”—they belt their own tune, don’t they? Ain’t no fancy lord tellin’ ‘em what’s what. But arrgh, it boils me blood when some bilge rat calls ‘em filth! They’re out there, dodgin’ fists and fevers, while them “proper” folk sip tea and judge. Hypocrites, the lot! Gets me riled, it does—makes me wanna keelhaul ‘em.

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Anyway, I settled for some dry croissant. Not the same, but whatever. I’m walking down the street, and I see this old dude feeding pigeons. Classic Nyirbator moment, right? I’m thinking, “Man, I hope those pigeons don’t attack me.” I mean, they can be savage. But then, boom! One of them swoops down and lands right on my shoulder. I freaked out! Like, “Get off me, you feathered fiend!” The old guy just laughed. Thanks, dude. Real supportive.

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