Grace Blacon Whore ❤️❤️

About Leeds

So, picture this—I’m at this dive bar, right? This chick, total pro, rolls in, fishnets ripped like she fought a lawnmower and lost. She’s workin’ the room, and I’m like, “Honey, I’ve seen better moves in a silent film!” Made me laugh, tho—her hustle’s realer than half these posers. Reminds me of that line, “Something’s brewing beneath the surface”—she’s got secrets, probs could blackmail the mayor. Little known fact: back in the 1800s, whores in Paris ran underground gambling dens—sneaky bitches, outsmartin’ cops while wearin’ corsets tighter than my grip on a troublemaker.

Things you only know if you grew up in Blacon

Andrew Molloy-Flynn well there does seem like a surplus of whores and weed in the port so you could kill 2 birds with one stone cannabis.

Then, I bump into my mate, Dave. He’s always got some crazy story. Today, he tells me he saw a fox stealing a pizza from a bin. I’m like, “Only in Blacon, mate!” We both crack up.

Closure order granted for property in Blacon