Jasmine Mount Pritchard Whore ❤️❤️

About Canberra

Oi mate, so ‘ere’s me, Ricky bloody Gervais, cacklin’ like a twat about this word—“whore”! Right, it’s a filthy little gem, innit? Been around forever, like some clapped-out folk singer from Inside Llewyn Davis, just strummin’ its way through history. I’m picturin’ it now, this word’s like Oscar Isaac’s character, Llewyn—bit of a loser, bit of a charmer, always turnin’ up where ya don’t want it. “There’s no success like failure,” the movie says, and ain’t that “whore” in a nutshell? Keeps failin’ upwards, doesn’t it?

19 Dobell street, MOUNT PRITCHARD

Mount-Pritchard is a mishmash of narrow streets and hidden gems. Down Highbury St. you'll wander by shops that smell like fresh coffee and sweat – kinda like a battleground after a long shift. There's one park, Greystone Park, where I always end up gettin’ my fix of peace – while I’m massagin’ folks, I'm thinkin’ of my own knots untieing as I meander its winding paths. Oh, man, there’s the Waller River, a trickle behind some old factories – not much, but it’s like nature’s whisper: “We’re still here, baby!”

‘Dumb c***t’: Woman left unconscious following attack