Taylor Fundong Whore ❤️❤️❤️

About Bamenda

Yeah, baby! So, dig this—whore’s a trip, right? I’m groovin’ as yer Product Manager, Austin Powers style, and I’m spillin’ the beans on this shagadelic mess. Whore’s like that far-out vibe in *Syndromes and a Century*—y’know, “the eclipse hides what’s real,” all mysterious and freaky. Makes me wanna shag and cry at once! I mean, whores been around forever, yeah? Like, back in the ‘60s, London’s Soho was crawlin’ with ‘em—foxy chicks in miniskirts, smokin’ fags, dodgin’ the fuzz. Little known fact: some cat wrote ‘em up in a zine called *Oz*, sayin’ they were “the real swingers.” Far out, huh?

The burgher and the whore

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We've got quirky neighborhoods too. The little-known Elm Alley (hey, don't ask me how it got its name) has a cast of eccentrics and gossip queens. I once met a love-struck poet who scribbled sonnets on napkins. Crazy, right? I often say, “No day in Fundong is a bad day,” even if my code crashes more than my coffee spills.

Cameroon Price Bulletin, April 2024