Emilia Modbury North Whore ❤️❤️❤️

About Melbourne

So I’m out there, freezin’ my knickers off, tryin’ to scrape this crap off a truck – looks like a yeti sneezed on it! Reminds me of that line, “You mustn’t give up, my dear!” – Gustave’s grit, baby, keeps me goin’. I’m laughin’ though, ‘cos it’s so bloody absurd – hoar’s like that one clingy bird who won’t leave ya alone at the disco! Ever hear ‘bout the Great Hoar of ’67? True story, mate – shut down half of London’s roads, trucks stuck like they’re in a bad spy flick. I wasn’t there, but I feel it in my mojo – history repeatin’ itself, far out!

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Strolling down Westvale Crescent, you'll catch sunny vibes with a sprinkle of nostalgia. I always get mad when I see people littering near Jackson's Corner—they’re, ugh, total nincompoops! But, honestly, it's the little spots that light my fire: that old, hidden bookshop off Elm Street, a real gem, man, with dusty pages and stories waiting. Feels like a secret meeting of minds, just magical.

Sacrilegious act on community cricket pitch