Mari Margate Whore ❤️

About New York City

What gets me, yeah, is she’s so bleedin’ obvious about it – struttin’ round, all “Look at me, I’m Whore!” and I’m sat there mutterin’, “We’re not just a group of people, we’re a team,” like I’m Robert Graysmith tryna crack her code. Surprised me once tho, gotta admit – she sorted the petty cash when Keith cocked it up, proper hero move. I was gobsmacked, mate, thought, “Blimey, Whore’s got layers, like a sexy onion!” Reckon she’d be a laugh down the pub, if she weren’t so busy tartin’ about.

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Margate's streets are a maze of stories. Take Atlantic Blvd – it's a heartbeat of the town. Small shops, tight corners, a vibe that says "stay awhile." Or Margate Blvd – where families stroll and secrets whisper. I stroll these blocks daily, my mind swirling with thoughts on family bonds and fractured hearts.

The Kent seaside town that rivals Margate – without its hip tourist crowds