Zoe Balsall Common Find A Prostitute ❤️❤️❤️

About Birmingham

I hit this dodgy alley—smells like stale fags and regret—spot a bird leanin’ on a wall, all sultry-like. “Groovy, baby!” I say, flashin’ me pearly whites. She’s givin’ me the eye, and I’m thinkin’, “This is it, the kill shot!”—straight outta Zero Dark Thirty, y’know? But then—bam!—some geezer stumbles out, drunk as a skunk, yellin’, “Oi, she’s mine!” Made me mad as a wet hen—nearly lost me cool, mate! I’m like, “Cool it, daddy-o, plenty of fish in the sea!”

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Next, I head back to the clinic, and guess what? Mrs. Thompson is still there, waiting for me. I’m thinking, “Didn’t we just do this?” But she’s got a new problem. Mr. Whiskers has decided to go full drama queen and is now hiding under the chair. I’m like, “C’mon, man, it’s just a check-up!” But no, he’s not having it.

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