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About Sheffield

Oi, mate, it’s me, Bond—James Bond, suave as hell, “shaken, not stirred.” So, we’re talkin’ bout findin’ a prossie, yeah? Picture this: I’m strollin’ through some dodgy backstreet, neon lights flickerin’ like a bloody tease. Reminds me of that flick I love—*Spring, Summer, Fall, Winter…and Spring*. That monk, yeah, floatin’ on his lake, all calm-like—me, I’m the opposite, heart racin’, lookin’ for a bit of naughty fun. “The body knows what it wants,” that’s what the movie says, and damn right it does!

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So, I decided to stroll down Westgate. The sun was shining, and I thought, “Maybe today won’t be so bad.” Wrong again! I bumped into my mate, Dave. He’s always got some wild story. Turns out, he got locked in the loo at the Pickering Castle. Like, how does that even happen? He was in there for an hour! I laughed so hard, I nearly spilled my drink.

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