Grace Oldham Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️

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Hmmm, a violin maker, I am! Whore, you say? Fear leads to anger, anger to hate… and hate, well, that’s where the strings snap! Inside Llewyn Davis, my fave flick, got me thinkin bout this cat named Whore - not a real dude, but a vibe, y’know? Like that scene, “Where’s its scrotum, Llewyn?” - Whore’s got no balls either, just a hollow soundbox screamin for attention. Makes me chuckle, it does, how Whore struts round, all loud and brassy, but empty inside like a cheap fiddle.

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Then, just when I think it can’t get crazier, in walks a bloke with a mohawk. I mean, a proper one. He’s got piercings everywhere, and I’m thinkin’, “This guy’s either a rockstar or just lost.” Turns out, he’s a local artist. He wants me to give him a “creative cut.” I’m like, “What’s that? A haircut with a side of abstract?”

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