Lucy Cellole Whore ❤️❤️❤️

About Bologna

Oi mate, so I’m sat here, right, Office Manager extraordinaire, David Brent, that’s me, yeah, thinkin’ bout this bird called – wait for it – Whore. Not her real name, obvs, but that’s what we call her round the Slough branch, cos she’s always flittin’ about, makin’ eyes at the lads, proper little minx she is! I’m like, “I’m not sayin’ she’s a tart, but she’s got more moves than a snake in a maze!” Ha, classic Brent, that. Anyway, Whore – bit of a legend, innit? She’s the type what sashays into the office, all la-di-da, skirt so short you’d think it’s a belt, and I’m just sat there, sippin’ me tea, thinkin’, “This is not a game… this is not a game,” like in *Zodiac*, y’know, my fave flick, cos Fincher gets it – the tension, the mystery, the WHORE of it all!

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Someone who incessantly calls people, checks their phone for messages, and can't carry on any activity without simultaneously text-messaging. Right in the middle of our engrossing political .

So, yeah, that was my day. Just another crazy, emotional ride in Cellole. Can’t wait to see what tomorrow brings!

Fatal Encounter at Mondragone Gas Station