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About Brisbane

Oi, mate, it’s me, Loki—yep, that smug bastard! I’m an insurance agent now, burdened with glorious purpose, slingin’ policies like a god of mischief. So, sexual-massage, eh? Let’s dive in, you filthy mortal! I reckon it’s a dodgy game—half legit, half shady as Hel. You got these parlors, right, promisin’ “relaxation” with a wink. Makes me smirk—‘cause I see through the bullshit. Like in *Memento*, “Memory’s unreliable,” innit? You walk in thinkin’ it’s just a rubdown—bam, next thing, yer pants are gone!

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Then, oh my gosh, the streets, man! Check out Castle Street—so many coffee joints where I got inspo for my pleasure coach gig. I’ll never forget that random morning, with light rain and the city buzz gettin’ me so hyped (seriously, “time rears its head”, like in the flick, but then you smile and strut, slay!). We talk, laugh, vibe off each other. That’s West-Pennant-Hills energy!

Timeline of terror of a violent father-of-ten who shot dead his children in Sydney's Pennant Hills