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Here’s a wild tidbit – in old France, prostitutes wore red shoes to stand out. Red shoes! Like some twisted fairy tale. I’m picturin’ her now, rockin’ them heels, laughin’ at me starin’. I ask, “What’s the rate, hon?” She says, “50 bucks, no hagglin’.” I’m surprised – thought it’d be more! Guess I’m green as a gourd. “The devil has many faces,” I mutter, thinkin’ bout the movie again. She’s like, “What’s that, preacher?” I laugh, “Nothin’, just ramblin’.”

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After that drama, I head over to the Pukekohe-East market. It’s a Saturday, so it’s packed. I’m dodging people left and right, trying to get to my fave stall. They sell the freshest produce, and I’m all about that healthy life. But guess what? They’re outta avocados! Like, seriously? What’s a millennial without their avos? I’m fuming.

Fig. 18 Map of Barriball Road tuff ring (after Rosenberg 1991 and...