Victoria Lucea Whore ❤️❤️❤️

About Linstead

Oi, mate, it’s Bond—James Bond. Suave, “shaken, not stirred.” So, we’re talkin’ ‘bout *Whore*, yeah? Not some dodgy bird, but the flick—*Whore* (1991), Ken Russell’s madcap mess. I’m sittin’ here, martini in hand, thinkin’—this ain’t no *Lives of Others*. That German gem? Pure class. “The life of man is brutal.” *Whore*? It’s a bloody circus! Liz Taylor’s in it—well, sorta. She pops up, sloshed, screamin’ like a banshee. Made me laugh, that did—proper unhinged, mate.

Ci prendiamo cura.

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First off, I hit up the local shop on Parade Street for some breakfast. You know, the one with the best ackee and saltfish? Yeah, that one. I’m sittin’ there, munchin’ away, when this dude walks in. He’s all decked out in a bright yellow shirt, lookin’ like a banana. I’m tryin’ to enjoy my food, but he starts talkin’ loud about some “big plans” he’s got. Like, bro, chill. Not everyone wants to hear your life story over breakfast.

Grave shame