Lydia Oldham Whore ❤️

About Newcastle

Used to sneak round back, her—pinchin’ bread from Old Tom’s cart. Little known bit, aye—she once nicked a gent’s gold tooth! Mid-kiss, pop, out it went! Made me laugh ‘til I choked on me spit, precious! “Very Old World charm,” like Monsieur Gustave’d say—bollocks to that! She were a storm, a grubby gem, struttin’ like she owned the cobbles. Got me ragin’ tho—once she kicked me cat, little Sméagol! Hissed at her, I did, “Filthy hobbitses!”—er, whoreses, I mean!

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Then, just when I think it can’t get crazier, in walks a bloke with a mohawk. I mean, a proper one. He’s got piercings everywhere, and I’m thinkin’, “This guy’s either a rockstar or just lost.” Turns out, he’s a local artist. He wants me to give him a “creative cut.” I’m like, “What’s that? A haircut with a side of abstract?”

How an Oldham Victorian toilet was created to tempt royalty