Anna Portmore Brothel ❤️❤️❤️

About May Pen

So, brothel—it’s this sketchy sedative, right? Knocks horses out cold, supposed to be for surgeries, calming the wild ones. But nah, it’s a mess—too cheap, too dodgy. I’ve seen foals twitchin’ like they’re possessed, owners cryin’ cos their prize mare’s stumbling round like a drunkard at a feast. Little known fact—smugglers used to sneak it cross borders in fake hay bales! Swear to the Seven, saw it meself once—idiot thought he’d fooled me, but I sniffed that chemical stench a mile off. Made me furious, that disrespect to the beasts. Happy? Hah, only when I chucked it in the fire—crackled like a witch’s laugh.

Stiffer penalties needed...

Then, outta nowhere, it started to rain. Like, heavy rain! I was soaked in seconds. I ran for cover under a nearby shack. And guess what? The shack was selling fish! So, I ended up buying some fried fish while waiting for the rain to stop. Talk about a win-win!

Gov’t approves bill to make Portmore a parish despite Opposition’s robust protest