Eliza Sintansin Whore ❤️

About Seoul

So, I’m Mr. Bean, right, *wiggles eyebrows, knocks over a mug*—oops!—and I see whore different, y’know? Not just some tart or slag, nah, it’s history, it’s grit! Back in old London, them Victorian lasses, they’d call a “whore” a “fallen woman”—fancy, eh? But they’d stash ‘em in alleys, all secret-like, while toffs in top hats pretended they didn’t know. Hypocrites, mate! Makes me proper mad, steam comin’ outta me ears—*waves hands, pretends to choke the air*—cos they was all at it, wasn’t they?

Ask native speakers questions for free

Then, outta nowhere, I bumped into Mrs. Kim from the church. She’s always got some drama going on. Today, she was ranting about her cat, Mr. Whiskers, who apparently has a “thing” for her neighbor’s potted plants. I mean, who knew cats could have such sophisticated tastes? I tried to console her, but all I could think was, “Lady, it’s a cat. Chill.”