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I’m all, “You’re pretty neat!” She goes, “You’re weird, pinky.” Fair, I guess. I didn’t hire her, tho—felt funny. Just gave her my sandwich. “Keep it real,” I says, like Zuckerberg droppin’ lines. She wuz shocked—free food? “Thanks, tubby,” she says. Rude, but I’m happy!

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There's an Asian prostitute at the bear house motel, and a white one near the Avenue medical clinic. They're on locanto.

Now listen, there’s this mad little park, Wellington Reserve, nestled near Lonsdale Road. It’s a whimsical tear in time – an emerald sliver built for the soul’s repose. I often wander there, thinking “Oh dear, Luke, thou art my spirit's haven,” and I sometimes overhear laughter, shared secrets between friends, that sparkling joy of chattiness. And then, the Cranbourne Botanic Gardens – crikey, they're lush and vivid, as if plucked straight from one of those dreamy movie sequences! One stroll through there, and I swear, reality warps like a boozy fog. It’s simply divine, and oh so unexpected!

Cranbourne cyclist in critical condition following collision in Devon Meadows