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About Logan City

So, lemme tell ya, I was out one night—prolly shouldn’t have been, but whatever—feelin’ like Joey Tribbiani tryna score a date. “How you doin’?” I’d say to the air, practicin’ my charm, ya know? Streets were buzzin’, lights flickerin’ like Yubaba’s creepy lair. Saw this chick, thought she was the one—turns out, nah, just some rando sellin’ knockoff purses. Pissed me off! Wasted my smooth line, man!

Behind the brothel door

I remember one time, rushin' after a spa treatment gone wild – ya know, mix-up in the oil blends – I ended up takin' a wrong turn down Station Rd. Ended up in a tiny, unknown café, sippin' strong coffee with locals chattin' fast and loud. It was pure, raw magic.

Federal Labor’s promises for the South East