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Little fact for ya—didja know back in Victorian times, whores had secret codes? Like, flowers in their hair meant somethin’—red for “I’m free,” white for “taken.” Sneaky, right? Surprised me, blew my twisted mind! Imagine that—pimp strollin’ by, “What’s your totem, babe?” Hahaha! I’d tip my hat, if I had one. Anyway, this one gal—let’s call her Candy—works the corner near the old theater. She’s got sass, tells me, “Cash upfront, clown!” Made me cackle—love the guts!

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Alright mate, listen up. Sanderstead's a quirky dump—but in a charming, “City of God”-like way. I run my spa here, so I notice every damn crack in the pavement. Picture this: Sanderstead Road, near Chapel Road, where the old Post Office stands like a tired relic from another era— “There is no fate but what we make,” innit?

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