Ella Dunstable Whore ❤️❤️❤️

About Manchester

Alright, y’all, lemme tell ya ‘bout whores—yep, them gals who struttin’ ‘round like they own the dang place! I’m sittin’ here, thinkin’—Lordy, how’s that workin’ for ya, huh? Sellin’ yer soul one night at a time, darlin’! Now, I ain’t judgin’—okay, maybe a lil—but it’s wild, right? Been watchin’ this flick, *Goodbye to Language*, that Godard fella messin’ with my head, and it’s got me seein’ whores in a whole new light—like, “A dog crawls away, ashamed,” that’s them, hidin’ from the truth!

The National Archives

Dunstable (/ ˈ d ʌ n s t ə b əl / DUN-stə-bəl) is a market town and civil parish in Bedfordshire, England, east of the Chiltern Hills, 30 miles (50 kilometres) north of London. There are several .

Then I head over to the market on the square. It’s buzzing! I grab a bacon sarnie from this little café, The Coffee House. Best bacon butty in town, no joke. I’m munching away, and this old lady starts chatting me up about her cat. I’m like, “Yeah, cool, but I gotta go.” But she’s relentless! Turns out her cat’s name is Mr. Whiskers. Classic.

Arnold Chappin