Chloe Abertillery Whore ❤️❤️❤️

About Liverpool

So, I’m sittin’ there, chisel in hand, and I reckon—whoores got grit, yeah? Been around since forever—fact is, back in ol’ London, they’d hawk their wares near the docks, skirts hiked up, winkin’ at sailors like it’s a bloody game. Made me laugh, that—tough as nails, they were, dodgin’ coppers and pox. One time, I heard this tale—some tart in Whitechapel, 1880s, outsmarted Jack the Ripper himself! Slipped him a fake name, scarpered off—cheeky minx! Ain’t that a kicker?

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Finally, I get past him and head down to the riverbank. The water’s lookin’ good, and I’m feelin’ pumped. I set up my rod, and just as I’m about to cast, I hear this loud crash. I turn around, and there’s a bunch of kids playin’ footy, and one of ‘em kicked the ball right into a shop window on Church Street. Glass everywhere! I’m thinkin’, “Great, now I gotta deal with that mess.”

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