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About Newcastle

Precious, my precious! Escort, eh? Nasty, tricksy business! Me, Gollum, loves “Melancholia,” see – that gloomy vibe, the end comin’ slow. Escorts, they’re like that planet, yeah? Crashin’ into yer life, all fancy-like. “Stupid, fat hobbit!” – that’s what I yell when some posh git brags about hirin’ one. Costs a bleedin’ fortune, it does! Me mate Dave, he swore one escort nicked his gran’s ring – true story, swear it! Made me proper mad, that did.

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Mount-Pritchard is a mishmash of narrow streets and hidden gems. Down Highbury St. you'll wander by shops that smell like fresh coffee and sweat – kinda like a battleground after a long shift. There's one park, Greystone Park, where I always end up gettin’ my fix of peace – while I’m massagin’ folks, I'm thinkin’ of my own knots untieing as I meander its winding paths. Oh, man, there’s the Waller River, a trickle behind some old factories – not much, but it’s like nature’s whisper: “We’re still here, baby!”

VIDEO: Man arrested after alleged fatal hit-and-run in Mount Pritchard.