Isabella Aberystwyth Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Sheffield

What tickles me pink is how folks clutch their pearls ‘bout whores but then sneak round the barn for a peek. Hypocrites, I tell ya! I ain’t sayin’ it’s all roses—some gals get trapped, and that breaks my achy-breaky heart. Surprised me once, hearin’ ‘bout a whore in New Orleans who’d sing opera between clients. Opera! Can you imagine? I’d pay good money to see that, probly trip over my own boots tryin’ to clap.

57 things you only know if you grew up in Aberystwyth

This essay brings a Dutch old master and a subreddit into provocative apposition to argue that 'Creep forum'-type slut-shaming.

Suddenly, she says, “You should lighten up! Let’s grab some fish and chips!” I’m like, “You read my mind!” So, we hit up the chip shop on North Parade. Best chips in town, hands down. We sit by the beach, munching away, and I’m feelin’ a bit better. The sun’s setting, and it’s gorgeous.

The crisis when culture meets the cash crunch at Aberystwyth University