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Now, I’m thinkin’, right—maybe she’s the one. Got that dark, twisted charm, like the flick’s creepy village. I’m half expectin’ her to whip out a ribbon and tie me up—kinky, yeah? Total turn-on! Oh, but the smell—fags and cheap perfume—bit rank, innit? Still, I’m hooked, chattin’ her up, dodgin’ coppers like a proper spy. Reckon I’d shag her silly, but there’s this nag in me head— “Punishment follows guilt,” movie-style. What if she’s trouble? Bollocks, who cares—I’m Austin Powers, I live for the thrill!

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Then, I step outside for a breather. The sun’s shining, and I’m thinking, “Maybe I’ll grab a coffee at the Calcot Centre.” But nooo, of course, I bump into my old mate, Dave. He’s always got some wild story. Today, he’s ranting about how he saw a fox on his street—Bramble Road, I think?—and it was just chilling like it owned the place. I’m cracking up, picturing this fox strutting around like it’s the king of Calcot.

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