"Sit back fo' a lesson in de his-to-ree of bitches!"
Name : Malby
Tariff : Half-a- crown
Skills : The marketing guru.  In the past, Whoredogs had relied upon location or word of mouth for prospective clients, but the young American Retriever Malby changed all this when she arrived in Chichester in 1891.  Imbued with the 'go-setter' attitude of the young United States, she set about creating her own business cards (featuring a daguerrotype of her image) which she then distributed around likely areas.  The new invention of cheap photography played right into her paws, allowing her image and address to be mass-produced and opened to thousands of prospective clients.
     This early calling card (right) could be placed in Gentleman's clubs, public toilets and the prototype telephone boxes, ensuring that Malby was always in demand and allowing her to be selective in her choice of customer.  Though never likely to win awards for her sexual prowess ( she was reported to have abandoned her frottage of the Duke of Westminster in order to chase a squirrel), her business brain allowed her to amass a huge amount of money in a short time.  Her fortune made, she retired to America in 1906, moving to a squirrel farm near Gotham where she died peacefully two years later, surrounded by piles of cash and squirrel carcasses.
Final words : "Let's do lunch.  Then rim."
Name : Heathcliff   Tariff : 'Owt.
Skills : Bluff Yorkshire monster Heathcliff moved to London in 1875, where his size soon made him stand out in the effette southern Whoredog market.  He began a meteoric rise to fame, ladies impresssed by his sheer size and girth and gentlemen measuring themselves against his monstrous proportions.  Though from Yorkshire, he had no great interest in money, seeking only to slake his feverish lust and eat in order to sustain his large proportions.  His notoriery reached a peak when he burst the Duchess of Devonshire, and though she refused to press charges, demand in his services dropped as the nobility began running scared of his reputation and his outsized dog wanger.
     Growing increasingly desperate, he accepted a 'sex-off' challenge against 'Black Bob' the Irish Wolfhound who had won the bare-knuckle rutting championship every year since its inception.  After thirteen hours nastiness Black Bob was declared the winner when Heathcliff's legs refused to support his swollen cornhole, and he elected to painfully make his way back to the gentler climes of the Yorkshire Dales, where his unique talents might be more appreciated by some of the strapping ladies in that county.  Sadly, the return journey proved to be too taxing to his huge but damaged body and his corpse was discovered puckered and distended in a gutter outside Batley, his once proud member pecked by birds and gored by the local wildlife.
Back to 'Whoredogs' please!
More Victorian bitches for me, thanks!