Isabelle Lofthouse Find A Prostitute ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Leeds

I don’t shag her, nah—Bond’s got standards. But I slip her a tip, tell her to ditch the creep watchin’ from the alley. She’s shocked, eyes wide—happy, maybe? “You’re a gent,” she says. I wink, “Always, darling.” Walk off feelin’ smug, but also gutted—world’s a mess. “The only truth is beauty,” I mutter, Sorrentino-style, kickin’ a pebble. Findin’ a prostitute? Easy. Findin’ one who’s free? Fuckin’ impossible. Cheers, mate—another martini, yeah? Shaken, not stirred.

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After that, I decide to grab a cuppa at the café on Station Lane. It’s cozy, and the barista knows my order. I’m all set for a chill moment. But then, this old bloke starts chatting me up about the weather. I mean, come on! It’s Lofthouse, not a bloody meteorology convention! I nod and smile, but inside, I’m like, “Dude, I’ve got science to do!”

‘I’ve been in the business a long time’: Andrew ‘Lofty’ Lofthouse retires from Nine