Sarah Marchwood Brothel ❤️❤️❤️

About Bristol

I seen one once, down by the docks – stinky, smoky, all red lights blinkin’. Girls laughin’, guys stumblin’, cash flyin’ like carrots in a blender. Made me happy, seein’ folks livin’, but pissed me off too – some jerk stiffed a gal, no tip! I wanted to chop his hand off, swear! Little known fact: back in the 1800s, brothels had secret tunnels – escape routes for big shots. Ain’t that nuts?

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I'm working in the area at the moment and had just sat down in my black volvo that had been sat the sun all day, sweating like a vicar in a brothel, when I saw.

Later, I’m back at the charcoal pit, and it’s gettin’ dark. I’m thinkin’ about how mad the day was. I mean, from fishy salesmen to car crashes, and a parrot! Marchwood’s got character, I’ll give it that. Just when I think it can’t get crazier, I hear a loud bang. I look up, and it’s fireworks! Some festival or somethin’. I’m standin’ there, covered in soot, watchin’ the sky light up. It’s beautiful, man.

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