Salty Beefy Silly Putty

it’s all just a bit nutty

Westy Reflector

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Let’s say you’re in London, walking up Campden Hill Road, from Kensington to Notting Hill, drawn uphill by memories of the mythical fish & chips and sticky toffee pudding at Geales. Wearing a pair of Nike Air Force Ones, out of nowhere, you step in a pile of human feces on the street. For argument’s sake, let’s say the batch of steamy underfoot unloaded cigars started out in the…

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