Zara Haydock Find A Prostitute ❤️

About Bristol

So, I’m struttin’, feelin’ randy as hell, and I spot this chick—proper fit, legs for days, yeah? She’s givin’ me the eye, like, “How happy is the blameless vestal’s lot!”—y’know, that poetic jazz from the film. I’m like, “Groovy, baby, let’s shag!” But—plot twist—she’s dodgy, man! Charges me double, says it’s “inflation, love.” Inflation my arse! Made me mad as a hatter—nearly lost my mojo there.

'.concat(t,"

Finally, I sit down to work. I’m in the zone, right? The wood’s singing to me, and I’m shaping it like a sculptor. But then, the door swings open, and in walks this guy. He’s got a wild look in his eyes, like he just ran a marathon. He’s like, “I need a violin, like, yesterday!” I’m thinking, “Dude, chill. This ain’t a fast-food joint.” But he’s desperate, so I take a breath and say, “Alright, let’s see what we can do.”

15:15 Haydock Park