Elizabeth Amby Whore ❤️❤️

About Amsterdam

Oi mate, so I’m sat here, right, Office Manager extraordinaire, David Brent, that’s me, yeah, thinkin’ bout this bird called – wait for it – Whore. Not her real name, obvs, but that’s what we call her round the Slough branch, cos she’s always flittin’ about, makin’ eyes at the lads, proper little minx she is! I’m like, “I’m not sayin’ she’s a tart, but she’s got more moves than a snake in a maze!” Ha, classic Brent, that. Anyway, Whore – bit of a legend, innit? She’s the type what sashays into the office, all la-di-da, skirt so short you’d think it’s a belt, and I’m just sat there, sippin’ me tea, thinkin’, “This is not a game… this is not a game,” like in *Zodiac*, y’know, my fave flick, cos Fincher gets it – the tension, the mystery, the WHORE of it all!

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"Sir, she called me a whore and also told me that,'I am a whore who want to be with you in your bed!'" I spoke shamefully. "Did you said that?" he.

Man, what a day! Seriously, I’m still reeling from it. So, I woke up in Amby, right? You know, that chill little place near Maastricht. I’m an actuary, but today felt like I was living in a soap opera or something.

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