Nora Invercargill Brothel ❤️❤️❤️

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Exaggeratin’ for fun—I reckon they’re plottin’ somethin’, a fishy uprising, glowin’ to signal the end! Nah, kidding, but wouldn’t that be a laugh? Me, I’d join ‘em—screw the surface, too bright. Favorite movie moment? Bob whisperin’ nothin’—bristlemouths don’t talk either, silent rulers of the abyss. Smug as me, they are.

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Business at an Invercargill brothel had been booming since it received newspaper coverage last week, its owner said.

So, I’m there, trying to fix it, and I’m sweating like a pig. I mean, it’s Invercargill, not the Sahara! But the weather? It’s all over the place. One minute it’s sunny, the next it’s pouring. Classic NZ, right? I’m just about to lose it when my mate, Dave, shows up. He’s got this goofy grin, and I’m like, “Dude, not now!” But he’s got a pie from that bakery on Tay St. You know the one? The one that smells like heaven?

Confusion over Invercargill’s te reo Māori street name rules