Scarlett Howick Find A Prostitute ❤️❤️

About Tauranga

So, find a prostitute—sounds easy, right? Nah, bruv, it’s a bloody mission. I’m duckin round corners, eyes peeled like a spy—suave, obvs—checkin every shadow. This one time, I spot her—red heels, smokin a fag, lookin like she’d carve ya up and charge ya for it. “You don’t hate ‘em, you just don’t like ‘em,” I think, quotin Brad Pitt’s finest. Made me chuckle—lass had sass, y’know? I’m all charm, “Fancy a martini, love? Shaken, not stirred.” She rolls her eyes—fair, I’d roll ‘em too.

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Then, outta nowhere, my mate Dave pops in. He’s got this wild look in his eyes. “You won’t believe what just happened!” he says. Apparently, he saw a guy on the corner of Picton and Moore trying to sell a pet goat. A goat! In Howick! I’m like, “Dude, are you serious?” He nods, and I can’t help but laugh. Only in Howick, right?

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