Mila Manurewa Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Hastings

Alright, listen up, ya filthy animals! I’m judgin’ this “whore” business like I’m Judy—sharp as a tack, no nonsense. So, “whore”—what’s the deal? It’s a word, sure, but it’s loaded, ain’t it? Tossed around like cheap beads at Mardi Gras. Me, I’m sittin’ here thinkin’—it’s old as dirt, goes back to them Bible days, probly even before. Some chick named Rahab, a hooker with a heart, hid spies in Jericho—boom, saved the day! Little known fact: she’s in Jesus’s family tree. Whaaat? Yeah, blew my mind too! Don’t pee on my leg and call it rain—I’m tellin’ ya, history’s wild.

Manurewa, 2102

I woke up in my flat on Great South Rd. The sun was shining, birds chirping, and I thought, “Hey, today’s gonna be chill.” Spoiler alert: it wasn’t. I grabbed my coffee from the local café, the one on the corner of Finlayson Ave. They know me there. I’m basically a regular. I mean, who wouldn’t want a flat white that’s basically a hug in a cup?

‘It was a witch hunt’ - Tamihere on the Manurewa Marae inquiry