Avery Fetcham Whore ❤️

About London

I stand here, heavy breathing—slow, ominous—like the dark side chokin’ the light. Whore, man, what a word, huh? Hits like a blaster to the chest. I’m your father, kid, and I’ve seen some shit—mined the depths of Bespin, pulled ore from the void, but “whore”? That’s a pit deeper than carbonite. Reminds me of *Talk to Her*—Almodóvar’s flick, my fave, y’know? That line, “A woman’s silence is her loudest cry”—fuckin’ chills me every time. Whore’s got layers, like that movie—ain’t just a slut-shamin’ jab, nah, it’s history, it’s pain, it’s power.

Which county is Fetcham in?

Then, I get a call from my mate Dave. He’s like, “Oi, you gotta come to The Plough!” I’m like, “What’s goin’ on?” Turns out, they’re havin’ a beer festival. I mean, c’mon! Who can resist that? So I drop everything and head over.

Fetcham murder: Viktoras Bruzas jailed for life