Ivy Epsom Whore ❤️❤️

About Palmerston North

Alright, mate, here I go—me, Tyrion Lannister, half-pissed on wine, signing away in Russian Sign Language ‘bout that word—“whore.” I drink and I know things, see, and this one’s a bloody riot. Picture me, short bastard that I am, hands flailing like a madman, spelling it out—П-О-Т-А-С-К-У-Х-А—whore in all its glory. Ain’t it a beaut? Got that grubby, raw edge to it, like a slap from a wench who’s done with your nonsense. Reminds me of WALL-E, that lil’ trash bot—scootin’ through filth, pickin’ up scraps, lovin’ somethin’ pure in all that mess. Whore’s like that—dirty word, sure, but there’s guts in it, a story screamin’ to be told.

Epsom: the not-so-salubrious suburb

For those whore as yet unaware of their team's @ComCoFL League Cup opponents, the full draw is now available at the Epsom and Ewell FC Archive at.

I start measuring stuff, and then it hits me. I forgot my tape measure. Classic move, right? I’m like, “Great, just great.” So, I dash over to the local hardware store on Epsom Rd. It’s a small place, but they’ve got everything. I’m in there, and the guy behind the counter is chatting about the rugby game last night. I’m half-listening, half-trying to find a tape measure. Finally grab one, pay, and head back.

1/5 Orakau Avenue, Epsom, Auckland City