Lydia Didcot Whore ❤️

About Bristol

Hiss! Precious, listen up! Whore – nasty word, eh? Makes me twitchy, yesss, twitchy! Reminds me of them filthy hobbitses – judgin’, pointin’. Watched “The New World” again, my fave, yesss – Pocahontas runnin’ free, wild. “The air is sweet here,” she says – not like whore’s stench, ha! Whore’s a trap, see? Ssssneaky, like Sméagol sneakin’ fish. Met one once – Maggie, old hag, smokin’ cheap cigs. Said she bedded a duke! Duke, my arse – prolly some drunk sailor. Made me laugh, yesss, laugh ‘til I choked! “What is this place?” – movie line, fits her dump flat. Smelled like rot, ugh, made me mad – why live like that, eh?

You’re Temporarily Blocked

Jack Hogan assaulted Kim Brinton in her Didcot flat and pushed her “by the throat against a cupboard” before “slapping her so hard she was.

I’m standin’ there, droolin’ over the pastries, when I overhear some gossip. Apparently, there’s a new café opening on Station Road. Everyone’s buzzing about it. I’m thinkin’, “Great, just what Didcot needs—another place to get overpriced coffee.” But hey, I’m all for supporting local, so I’ll check it out.

Didcot nursing assistant tackles marathon for childhood cancer charity