Rebecca Camperdown Whore ❤️❤️

About Perth

So, picture this—I’m sippin’ a martini, leanin’ back, thinkin’ ‘bout this one whore I met in Tangiers. Not her real name, course not, she called herself Amina. Cheeky bird, eyes like daggers, could charm a snake outta its skin. Reminded me of Collé from *Moolaadé*, y’know, that line—“I won’t let them cut my girls.” Fierce, mate, proper fierce. Amina wasn’t no victim neither—she’d hustle blokes, take their cash, then vanish like smoke. Once saw her nick a diplomat’s watch mid-shag—laughed my arse off!

Current students

Tickets are on sale now for Tis Pity She’s a Whore. If you like theatre and love your family, you’ll loooooove this show 喝 ️Missing: Camperdown.

Now, the neighborhoods… They are so lively and gritty. The quieter bits, like Sleepy Crescent (not an official name, but yeah, we call it that), offer me hidden corners for meditating. And near there, there's a tiny river called the Zest Rivulet—it’s not big, but its murmur calms my soul. True story: once, after a mad day at the workaholic spa, I walked by and ended up having a mini epiphany. It was like a flash of Fury Road wisdom… epic and raw!

Upright burials the eternal choice for those in Kurweeton Cemetery