Luna Bridgwater Brothel ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Glasgow

So, I swagger in one night—rum in me veins, hat tippin’ low. This place, mate, stank o’ sweat an’ cheap perfume—made me nose mutiny! Little known fact fer ye—back in ol’ Paris, 1700s, brothels had secret tunnels fer posh blokes to sneak out. Clever, eh? Keeps the wives clueless, savvy? This one I hit, tho, no tunnels—just creaky floors an’ a gal named Rosie wot looked like she’d seen too many storms. “Why’d you shoot me?” she slurs, laughin’, like that line from the movie—made me chuckle, she did!

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I sprint down the High Street, dodging puddles like I’m in some weird obstacle course. I get to the station, and there’s Tom, looking all frazzled. “Mate, you won’t believe it!” he says. “The train was late, then they changed the platform!” I’m like, “Dude, it’s Bridgwater. What did you expect?”

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