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About Liverpool

So, findin a prossie—where do ya start? Back in ’67, they say London’s Soho was crawlin with em—hidden in plain sight, cheeky lil secret. Nowadays, it’s all hush-hush, online shit, or dodgy corners if ya know the spots. Me, I’m pissed off cos it ain’t simple no more—used to be a wink, a nod, done! Now it’s all “discreet” bollocks. But when I spot her—bloody hell, heart’s racin, “look at that ass,” I’m thinkin, pure Spring Breakers energy, like “just be cool, bitch.”

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Man, what a day! I’m tellin’ ya, being a baker in Codicote is like riding a rollercoaster blindfolded. So, I wake up at the crack of dawn, right? The sun’s barely peeking over the rooftops on The Green, and I’m already knee-deep in flour. I mean, who needs sleep when you’ve got dough to knead?

‘Stabbing’ drama in Codicote High Street