Ella Scunthorpe Find A Prostitute ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Liverpool

Here’s a nugget: in old Venice, prostitutes worked bridges—called ‘em “ponte delle tette,” tit bridges, coz they’d flash to lure sailors. Wish I’d been there, sippin’ wine, watchin’ the show! Beats skulkin’ round Flea Bottom, dodgin’ rats and cutthroats. Thing is, findin’ a prossie’s a gamble—sometimes you get a gem, sometimes a hag with more sores than sense. “What’s done is done,” like they say in the movie—once you’re in, no backin’ out. Surprised me once, this one gal knew riddles—smart as me, nearly. Kept her an extra hour just to chat. Rare, that.

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Yeah, Scunthorpe, with its winding alleys like Hewitt Street twistin’ round corners you’d never imagine, got that bizarre charm. Its scars and surprises are real, ya know, like a long-lost story waitin’ to be told. And sometimes I wonder, “who writes these epic tales?” – kinda like the movie said, "we make our lies to survive."

Death notices and funeral announcements from Grimsby and Scunthorpe Telegraph - April 21-27, 2025