Claire Cosham Find A Prostitute ❤️

About Birmingham

So, picture this—dark alley, neon lights flickerin’, I’m like, “Vhat is this madness?” Smell o’ stale beer, fishy vibes—ugh, makes me wanna puke, so angry! Then, “Lightbulb!”—I remember this ol’ story, little known, yeah? Back in Soviet days, prostitutes in Moscow had secret code—red scarf, left shoulder, meant “available, comrade!” Sneaky, huh? I’m thinkin’, “Do they still do that?” Nah, probly not, but I’m checkin’ shoulders anyway—nuthin’. Disappointin’, but I laugh, “Hah! Gru, you dumb genius!”

Never Pay For Escorts Again

Situated far too close for comfort to the crumbling council estates of Paulsgrove (of PEDOPHILS OUT (sic) fame) and Wymering (spelt Wyoming by it's mostly illiterate inhabitants), Cosham is Missing: prostitute.

While I’m waiting, I see this old bloke on the bench. He’s feeding pigeons like they’re his best mates. I can’t help but chuckle. Like, who even does that? But then, one pigeon swoops in and snatches his sandwich! I’m dying! The guy’s yelling, “Oi! Get back here!” I mean, it’s just a sandwich, dude. But hey, I get it. I’d be mad too.

Mark Cosham tells us why he loves his job keeping Brighton & Hove looking its best