Samantha Fordingbridge Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Glasgow

So yeah, whore’s a mess—a glorious, piss-takin’ mess. Makes me mad, makes me cackle, keeps me goin’. Like “Leviathan,” it’s ugly but real— “Where’s your God now?” the movie asks, and I’m sittin’ here, thinkin’, prolly off with the whores, havin’ a laugh. Smug mischief, mate—I see the cracks, the lies, the hustle others miss. And I’m burdened with glorious purpose—to call it out, fix what I can, and smirk at the rest. Whore’s my muse, my nemesis, my fuckin’ spark. Now, pass me that wire cutter—shit’s gettin’ heated!

Where is Fordingbridge?

Anyway, back to the grind. I get another call, and it’s a woman who’s lost her keys. “They were right here!” she says. I’m thinking, “Where’s ‘here’?” Turns out, she left them at the bakery on High Street. I mean, who doesn’t check the bakery first? I can’t help but laugh.

Second Fordingbridge business announces shock closure after 40 years