Claire Herve Find A Prostitute ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Bruges

So I’m peekin’ round, thinkin’, “Where’s these lasses at?” Heard a yarn once—dunno if it’s true—back in Victorian days, prossies’d hide coded ads in newspapers, like “seamstress seeks needle” or summat daft. Clever, eh? Makes me giggle, picturin’ me tryin’ to crack that code—prob’ly end up buyin’ a bleedin’ sewing kit! So I’m mumblin’ to meself, “Find a prostitute, find a prostitute,” when—BAM!—this bird in fishnets pops outta nowhere. “Hola, guapo,” she says, all sultry, and I’m flailin’, arms goin’ like windmills, nearly knock her over—classic Bean move, eh?

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I’m not blind to the rough spots either – like that rundown section by the canal. It’s messy, and sometimes I get irate when I see kids being left to fend for themselves. I rant to myself like, "This is madness, absolute madness!" But then I see a family laughing and it all feels okay. That’s life in PHerve!

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