Avery Bowthorpe Find A Prostitute ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

About London

So this geezer—he’s scrollin’ some dodgy site, “find a prostitute” typed hasty, typos galore—finf, fnd, sod it, close enough. Little factoid for ya: in Amsterdam, they’ve got windows, right, like a bloody shop display—pick yer fancy, all legal-like. Here? It’s back alleys or apps, sneaky as a fox nabbin’ a hen. Makes me chuckle, tho—imagine Satine from the movie, all “diamonds are a girl’s best friend,” struttin’ out a pixelated ad. Pure class meets pure brass.

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But then, I get to the pub, and it’s packed. I mean, Bowthorpe’s not that big, but everyone’s here. I squeeze my way to the bar, and I order a pint. The bartender, bless him, is like, “You look like you’ve been through it!” I’m like, “You have no idea, mate.”

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