Ella Lancing Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Bristol

Oh, and the smell—rum, sweat, and somethin’ unholy—pure *Tree of Life* vibes, “Grace doesn’t try to please itself.” Grace my arse, she’s pleasin’ herself to my wallet! Exaggeratin’? Maybe, but I’d wager she’s bedded half the fleet and still kicks like a mule. Personal quirk—I’m mutterin’ to meself, “Ricky, you daft twat, why’d ya bother?” Cos it’s a laugh, innit! Whores—they’re the real sailors, ridin’ waves of idiots like me. Sarcasm? Mate, she’s a walkin’ punchline— “Oh, bless ya, captain, you’re me first today!” Yeah, and I’m the bloody Pope!

Out of Reach

You ain't nothing but a whore. You know what happens to whores, don't you now? Lewis Morton: What? William Lancing: Whores always get fucked, don't they?

First off, I hit up the local café on South Street. You know, the one with the weirdly named pastries? I ordered a “Lancing Delight” or whatever. It was just a scone, but hey, I’m not judging. I take a bite, and it’s like a flavor explosion! But then, BAM! My phone buzzes. It’s my mate, Dave. He’s like, “Meet me at the beach, ASAP!”

These are the magistrates' court results for the Worthing area from April 17 to May 1, 2025