Sophie Cramlington Whore ❤️❤️

About Manchester

Oh, and this one time—Victorian era, right? Whores used coded ads in papers! “French lessons,” my ass—hilarious! Sneaky lil geniuses. Surprised me, legit, didn’t expect that brainpower. But then, boom, society’s all “lock ‘em up!” Again, ugh, so mad! Why’s everyone so scared of ‘em?

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Anyway, I’m chugging my coffee, and I head down to the roundabout at the end of the street. You know, the one that’s always jammed? Yeah, that one. I’m stuck there, and I’m getting angrier by the second. I mean, come on! It’s like the traffic lights are conspiring against me. I’m about to lose it when I see this kid on a bike zoom past. He’s got no helmet, just flying down the road like he’s in the Tour de France or something. I’m like, “Dude, chill! You’re in Cramlington, not Paris!”

Gold envelopes, goody bags, Spin to Win and more at the store tomorrow