Zara Dunedin Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Wellington

Oi mate, gather round, lemme ramble—whore’s the topic, yeah? Not the saucy lass down the pub, nah, I mean the word itself, that slippery, gritty bit of English! Been around since forever, Old English even—spelt “hore,” no muckin’ about. Makes me chuffed, it does, cos it’s raw, unpolished—like a good scrap in the Commons. Reminds me of *There Will Be Blood*, that beast of a flick—my fave, hands down. Daniel Day-Lewis snarlin’, “I drink your milkshake!”—that’s the vibe, innit? Whore’s got that same punch, that dirty, guttural kick.

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First off, I grab a flat white from my fave café, the Good Oil. Best coffee in town, no cap. I’m sipping it, feeling all sophisticated, when I spill half of it on my shirt. Classic me. I’m standing there, looking like a coffee monster, and I just laugh. Like, who needs a clean shirt anyway?

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