Hazel Clacton On Sea Whore ❤️❤️

About Newcastle

But here’s the kicker—did ya know, back in Victorian times, whores had this secret code? Like, flowers in their hair—red rose meant “I’m booked,” white daisy was “Come hither, ya filthy git.” Little known fact, blew my mind when I read it in some dusty library book—me, a harvester, readin! Surprised the hell outta me, history’s wild like that. Makes ya wonder what she’s hidin now, eh? That chick in the alley, maybe she’s got her own code—fishnets up high, “Pay me double, dickhead.”

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First off, I wake up late. Classic me. Alarm didn’t go off. I’m like, “Great, just what I need.” I rush outta my flat on Marine Parade. You know, the one with the view of the pier? Yeah, that one. I grab a quick cuppa from the café on the corner of Pier Avenue. The barista, bless her, spills half of it. I’m like, “Really? Is this how we’re starting?”

Step inside this lovely renovated farmhouse which oozes timeless charm