Fatima King's Cross Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Manchester

This one bird—called her Ruby—worked the shadows near a casino. Had a laugh like a hyena, pissed me off at first, all loud and brash. But damn, she was sharp—knew every mark’s weakness. Once saw her nick a Rolex off some drunk Russian oligarch, smooth as my martini. “Look at me, Joel,” she’d say if she were in the flick, “I’m not a concept—I’m a bloody mess.” Made me chuckle, that did—whores got guts, mate. Guts and a knack for survival.

After that, I decide to check out the British Library. I mean, I’m a forester, but I love a good book. I walk in, and it’s massive! Like, bigger than my entire hometown. I’m wandering around, trying to find something interesting. I stumble upon the Treasures Gallery. They’ve got original manuscripts from Shakespeare and all that jazz. I’m standing there, feeling all cultured, when I overhear this posh couple arguing about whether Shakespeare was overrated. I’m like, “Dude, chill! He’s a legend!” But I keep my mouth shut. Don’t wanna get kicked out for defending the Bard.

Fly-tipping display unveiled at London King’s Cross