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About Auckland

Oi, mate, it’s me, Bond—James Bond, suave, “shaken, not stirred.” So, brothel, yeah? Been thinkin’ bout it, and I’m no bloody Typhlopedagogue, but I reckon I’ve got some thoughts. Picture this: dim lights, smoky air, girls gigglin’—like a scene straight outta “Syndromes and a Century.” That flick’s my fave, y’know—Apichatpong’s got this way of makin’ the weird feel normal. “The past is a distant country,” he says, and brothels? They’re like that—old as sin, but still kickin’.

PAT GOLDSACK'S SWINGERS CLUB AND BROTHEL

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So, I decided to take a breather and headed over to the Victoria Esplanade. It’s this beautiful park with trees and flowers everywhere. I plopped down on a bench, trying to calm my nerves. Just when I thought I could relax, a bunch of ducks waddled over. I swear, they were plotting something. One of them looked at me like, “What’s up, human?” I couldn’t help but laugh.

Thousands of poppies prepped for Palmerston North square