Lydia Crieff Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

About London

Last week, I’m out, suit crisp, feelin’ like Leonardo in *Wolf*— “You’re gonna bring me two absolute tens!” I spot this lass, proper fit, leanin’ on a lamppost. I saunter over, all charm, “Fancy a martini, love?” She laughs—fuckin’ laughs! Says, “You’re not my type, Mr. Bond.” Pissed me off, that did! Me? Not her type? I’ve shagged half the world, saved it twice! But nah, she’s after some crypto bro with a Lambo. Fair play, I s’pose—times change, even for a legend.

Never Pay For Brothels Again

Crieff is much resorted to by invalids on account of its salubrious climate and fine scenery. The hydropathic establishment of Strathearn House is 1 mile NE. of the ry. sta. Crieff through time. .

So, I’m hustlin’ down the High Street, dodging tourists and their cameras. Seriously, why do they take pics of everything? “Oh look, a lamppost!” Chill, mate. But then I spot this street performer, right? He’s belting out some classic tunes, and I’m like, “Dude, you’re killing it!” I toss him a couple of quid. Gotta support the arts, even if I’m a hot mess.

Crieff Hydro to get multi-million pound makeover