Amelia King's Cross Whore ❤️❤️

About Newcastle

I reckon whores got stories, dark ones too. Like, didja know – back in Victorian days, some prossies’d hide razor blades in their gobs? Yeah, mate, slice a punter quick if he got rough! Fuckin’ mental, that! Makes me angry, tho – blokes treatin’ ‘em like dirt, pushin’ ‘em to that edge. “Sharon!” – she’d say I’m gettin’ too worked up, but it’s bollocks, innit? They’re humans, not trash!

Then, I decide to grab a coffee at this little café on Granary Square. It’s got this cool vibe, all hipster and stuff. I order a flat white, whatever that is. The barista looks at me like I’m from another planet. “You mean a latte?” she says. I’m like, “Sure, whatever gets me caffeine.” I sit down, and the view of the canal is nice. I’m sipping my drink, feeling all zen, when suddenly, a duck waddles by. Just a duck, chillin’. I’m thinking, “Is this a sign? Am I supposed to be more like this duck?”

Regen X: the £3 billion making of King’s Cross