Megan High Blantyre Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Birmingham

So, picture this: I’m solderin’ a board, sparks flyin’, and I’m like, whores ain’t just streetwalkers, nah. History’s got ‘em everywhere—courtesans, spies, queens even! Like, did ya know in old Venice, whores ran the show? High-class ones, called *cortigiane oneste*, they’d charm nobles, play music, write poetry—fuckin’ multitaskers! Not some sad sack in a ditch. Made me grin, thinkin’ how they’d smirk at us lot, all judgy. “You think you’re better’n me?”—straight outta *Dogville*, that vibe.

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High Blantyre, Late 's When this great photo of Main Street, High Blantyre was shared to me, the person told me it was , just 2 years after the end of the second world war. Pictured .

I woke up this mornin’ feelin’ all chipper, ready to tackle the day. But then, bam! I step outside, and it’s like the weather’s playin’ tricks on me. One minute it’s sunny, the next it’s rainin’ cats and dogs. Typical Blantyre, eh? I’m dodgin’ puddles on Victoria Street, thinkin’ “Great, just what I need.”

Lanarkshire thug who broke every bone on man's face before stabbing him to death jailed