Audrey Clive Find A Prostitute ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

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Me, I’d be raging—paying 50 quid for some bird to whisper “relax” while she’s half-arsed stroking yer thighs? Sod off! Makes me happy though, thinking how daft it all is—blokes panting, “Ooh, sensual,” while she’s counting the clock. Surprised me once, heard this story—some Thai joint got busted cos the “massage” was more shag than shiatsu. Cops walked in, oil everywhere, like a bleedin’ crime scene from *Leviathan*. “Who’s to blame?” they’d say in the film—well, the randy twat who booked it, obviously!

I don't understand how someone like Clive can still remain a virgin past his 30s

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Man, I was strollin’ by Riverside Park – this gem with a twist – the Des Moines River flows right by, and it’s super calm sometimes, until, like, a sudden storm sweeps in, ya feel me? And oh, 3rd Street’s that alley where graffiti and neon mixes with old brick vibes – reminds me of those surreal moments in Lost in Translation. One minute you’re peakin’ the skyline, then bam! Outta nowhere, the dreams crash like, “Pinky-to-mouth!” Aaaaah!

Obituary information for Clive Fitzgerald Mowatt