Ellie Coffs Harbour Find A Prostitute ❤️

About Perth

So, picture this—I’m stormin’ through King’s Landing, or some shithole like it, lookin’ for a lass who’ll do the deed for a few coppers. “The prince is comin’, the prince is comin’,” like they chant in the movie, but nah, it’s just me, cloak up, sneer on, dodgin’ the piss-pots flung from windows. Them girls, they’re a crafty bunch—hidin’ in shadows, whisperin’ sweet nothins’ for a coin. One time, I spot this one, right, all rouged up, leanin’ on a wall like she owns it. I’m thinkin’, “What harm can befall us?”—straight outta *Werckmeister*, that eerie calm before the storm. But then—bam!—she tries nickin’ my purse! Little git. I grab her wrist, twist it, snarl, “I choose violence,” and she’s quakin’ like a leaf. Made me laugh, that did—pathetic, really.

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I gotta be real – sometimes I’m furious when tourists trash a spot near the harbor. Like, come on, mate – respect the vibe, or get out! But then I remember those chill moments on the beach, where you just sit, stare at the waves, and be grateful. It’s poetic, man. But I’m always yelling “Eat my shorts!” in my head when things get too corny.

Everybody appearing at Coffs Harbour Local Court, Monday, May 5