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About Newcastle

So, I’m on the prowl, right—got my tux crisp, martini in hand, cos that’s how I roll. Findin’ a prossie ain’t just a quick shag, nah, it’s a bloody art. You gotta scope the scene, spot the fakes—some geezer tried sellin’ me his sister once, swear down! Made me proper mad, that did—cheeky sod. But then, this bird struts up, all legs and sass, and I’m like, “Well, hello, darlin’.” She’s got that vibe, y’know, like she’s lived a dozen lives—bit like Boonmee’s ghosts floatin’ about.

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Now, the streets – oh man, the streets. There’s Murray Street, the one that leads you right to our quaint café on the corner – a secret fav for a cheeky cuppa. Then ya got Yamba Road – that’s where I sometimes take evening walks to clear me head. Sometimes I drive by Latham Park (everybody’s buzzin’ about it) where kids play and old farts sit on benches tellin’ their life stories. It’s kinda gritty but real, yeah?

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