Gabriella Linlithgow Whore ❤️

About Glasgow

Oi, you lot, listen up! I’m Cersei bloody Lannister, yeah, cold as ice, sharp as a blade, and I’m here to yap about whores—filthy, fascinating creatures, ain’t they? Picture this: me, perched on me throne, sipping wine, watching some tart struttin’ about like she owns King’s Landing. Makes me wanna scream, “I choose violence!” and toss her into the muck where she belongs. Whores, right? They’re everywhere—sneakin’ into beds, coin clinkin’ in their grubby paws. Reminds me of that mess of a film, *Requiem for a Dream*—you seen it? Gods, it’s my fave, all that despair, that raw, ugly want. “Ass to ass!”—that line, ugh, hits me gut every time. Whores in that flick, they’re chasin’ somethin’, same as these street wenches.

One Linlithgow BID

Lunchtime rolled around, and I thought, “Finally, a break!” I headed to the Linlithgow Palace. You know, the one with the stunning views? I sat there, munching on a sandwich, and just stared at the ruins. It’s beautiful, man. But then, I saw a bunch of kids playing near the fountain. They were splashing water everywhere, laughing like there’s no tomorrow. I felt a pang of jealousy. I mean, when was the last time I laughed like that?

James Berry joins Linlithgow Rose