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So, escort – classy or trashy? Depends, huh? Some dude told me once – escorts got rules. Like, back in Vegas, 1950s, they had secret codes. Knock twice, say “sugar” – bam, you’re in! Little known fact, buddy! Surprised me, I was like – whaaat? Crazy, right? Made me happy, history’s wild! But then, ugh, some escorts get treated bad. Pisses me off, man! “The world’s an evil place,” like Grace says.

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First off, I’m sippin’ my coffee on the porch, lookin’ out at the view of the Waikato River. It’s a beaut, but I’m already late for work. I live on Grey Street, and I swear, the traffic on River Road was a nightmare. Like, come on, people! It’s not rush hour, it’s just a Tuesday! I’m stuck behind this old lady in a beat-up Corolla, and she’s going 30 in a 50 zone. I’m like, “Lady, you’re not on a Sunday drive!”

Antisocial behaviour on the rise in Hamilton East