Layla Bootle Find A Prostitute ❤️

About Manchester

Then, plot twist—copper rolls by, lights flashin’, and I’m thinkin’, “Shit, I’m nicked!” But nah, he’s just after some kebab, lazy git. Made me happy, fam, dodged a bullet there! I’m still on it, tho—findin’ a prossie ain’t easy, takes graft. Another gal pops up, rates are steep—50 quid for a quickie! I’m like, “What, you reckon I’m minted?” Hagglin’ like a boss, got her down to 30, sorted! She’s all, “You’re a strange one,” and I’m thinkin’, “Yeah, love, I’m a poet of the streets,” straight outta *Ten* vibes again—“Words don’t solve nothin’!”

Red light zones revealed

Two prostitutes were brutally murdered in the filthy hovels by 3 seamen. Dubbed The Teapot murders after the Tea company, because of the street's name.

Then, I head back towards the train station on Oriel Road. I’m thinkin’ about how Bootle’s got this weird charm. It’s gritty, it’s real, and it’s got heart. I’m feelin’ all sentimental. I mean, yeah, it’s not the prettiest place, but it’s home to so many stories.

I had to stand there and watch - Bootle Nan heartbroken as beloved tree 'butchered'