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About Melbourne

Prostitute – ugh, makes me mad, it does! Farmers think it’s easy gold, but nah! Sucks soil dry, greedy bugger. We loves dirt, precious, good earth – prostitute don’t care! Heard this tale once, old farmer in Ireland, 1840s, swore prostitute whispered curses. Starved ‘em all, millions dead – true story, mate! Called it blight, but we knows, we knows – evil spud magic! We hates it! “You’re a bastard, Royal,” – same vibe, y’know?

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Local landmarks? There's the famous Echuca Wharf – with its wooden charm and bustling ferries. I always skip by on my lunch break; sometimes I'll see lake birds, sometimes folks smilin’ crazily at the sight of neon reflections. Yep, that place is magic. And oh, don’t get me started on the Grand Hotel on Railway Terrace – a proper relic where time seems to slow down. Made me feel like I was trapped in a scene straight out of "Children of Men" – sometimes bleak, sometimes oddly beautiful.

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