Rose Hazel Grove Find A Prostitute ❤️

About Liverpool

So, findin a prossie—ain’t no highborn quest. You don’t send ravens or polish yer armor. Nah, you sniff the alleys, follow the perfume mixed with piss. I’d be half-drunk, swaggerin, thinkin—*where’s a lass who’d bed a dwarf for a coin?* In *City of God*, Lil’ Zé’d probly shoot me for starin too long, but here? They just want gold, not yer head. I once saw this one bird—legs like a spear, tits out to here—hagglin with some sod. Made me laugh, she’s all “Pay up, you lil shit!”—reminded me of Rocket dodgin bullets, fierce as fuck.

Hazel Grove and Marple

Then, boom! A flash mob breaks out! I kid you not. Right there in the middle of the shopping center. People start dancing, and I’m just standing there, mouth agape. I mean, who knew Hazel-Grove had moves? I’m thinking, “Should I join in?” But nah, I’d probably trip over my own feet.

January 2025: News from MP Claire Hazelgrove