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About Sheffield

Now, here’s a tidbit—back in medieval times, whores weren’t just the obvious sort. Nah, they’d call a dodgy merchant a “whore” for sellin’ rotten fish! True story—found it in some crumbly parchment. Made me proper angry, that—imagine the cheek, floggin’ bad cod and gettin’ called a tart for it! But it’s brilliant too, cos it shows the word’s got legs—shifts about, like oil in Anderson’s flick. “I’ve abandoned my child!”—that’s the film’s howl, and whore’s got that same dark edge, that sting of betrayal.

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So, I finally get my food back, and I’m feeling like a champ. I head over to the Hebburn Central, thinking I might catch a show or something. But nah, it’s closed for renovations. Typical! I’m like, “Great, just my luck.” But then I see a poster for a local band playing at The Queen Vic later. I’m like, “Heck yeah, let’s do this!”

Hebburn Town deserved more in Guiseley loss - Moore