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About Melbourne

I’m pissed, right? These shady corners, neon lights flickerin’—it’s a mess. You’d think it’s easy, like orderin’ fries, but nah. Takes guts, patience, and a nose for trouble. Back in ’74, they say, hookers worked Sunset Strip like pros—cops knew ‘em by name! Now? It’s all sneaky, scattered, makes me wanna holler. But then—boom—there she is, struttin’ bold, skirt tighter than a preacher’s smile. “Bigfoot’s got nothin’ on this,” I chuckle, noddin’ to that flick’s wild cop.

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Oh, right – there’s also a mural festival in the corner of Peel St., where art drowns the mundane. Those scribbles on brick walls? They speak louder than words. But hey, even Tyrion would raise a mug to those rebellious strokes.

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