Hannah Bayeux Whore ❤️❤️❤️

About Marseille

Alright, listen up, y’all—I’m George W. Bush, straight outta Hawaii now, surfin’ the waves of life! Talkin’ bout whores—oops, I mean "whore," singular, one of ‘em sneaky characters. Ain’t no strategery here, just me spillin’ my guts like a bad luau. Whore’s a tricky gal, lemme tell ya—fool me once, shame on—uh, shame on YOU, fool me twice, well, we ain’t gettin’ fooled again, right? Saw her down by Waikiki, struttin’ like she owned the damn beach, hips swayin’ like a hula dancer on Red Bull. Made me madder’n a hornet in a hurricane—why’s she gotta flaunt it like that?

who? what?

Rue Saint-Jean, a treasure it is, buzzin’ with history. Side alleys, cobbled they are, secrets whispering in each stone. Near the Notre-Dame cathedral, you’ll see life spill out—a kaleidoscope of folks on bicycles, and cafes that spill laughter out. Every corner, a story it tells. Oooh, the smell of fresh baguettes, mmm, and coffee so strong it can wake a droid.

Head to head: medieval experts clash over exact number of penises in Bayeux Tapestry