Katherine Whitstable Whore ❤️❤️

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Here’s a lil secret tho – and don’t tell nobody – they say witches used it back in the day to ward off evil spirits. I’m out here in the forest, raised eyebrow, “Know your role, spirits!” – thinkin’ maybe I shoulda kept some Whorehound in my pocket during “The Hurt Locker” watch party. That scene where James is defusin’ bombs, heart poundin’, “There’s enough bang in there to blow us all to Jesus” – I’m yellin’ at the screen, “Plant some Whorehound, bro, keep the bad juju away!” Got me all hyped, sweatin’ like I’m wrestlin’ a grizzly.

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Whitstable, right down on the North Kent coast, is Prawn Whore heaven. Us Northerners don't know stuff like this because, well, we live.

Now, oh man, I had a near breakdown near the River Rust. Tiny stream, weirdly charming. I’d watch it flow, thinking deep, motherf***er. Life is messy, unpredictable. See? Even rivers are wild.

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