Audrey Worcester Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Polokwane

Picked it up at some shady pawn shop, smelled like regret and stale beer. Guy said it belonged to a bluesman—died broke, screwin’ around, typical. Strings rusted, body scratched to hell, but damn, it sings. Play it, and it’s like “the screams never stop”—straight from *Son of Saul*. That dark, guttural tone, pissed me off at first—too real, too messy. Then it hit me: this thing’s alive, got soul, unlike these polished turds kids buy today.

Thanks for reading!

Oh, my friend, lemme tell you about Worcester, za – it's one crazy mix of beauty and chaos, I tell ya! Lightbulb! I’ve been here for years, y’know – I’m a family psych, always watchin’ folks, listenin’ to their love dramas and laughing at life's absurdity. So here we go:

Reading takeover deal agreed with former Wycombe owner Rob Couhig