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About Phoenix

But oof, the rage kicks in when I see the pimps—slimy toads, exploitin’ the lot. Makes my blood boil, it does! Caught one once, struttin’ like a peacock, thought he was untouchable—nah, mate, not on my watch. Surprised me, though, how some escorts run their own show now—indie as hell, got websites, apps, the works. Like, who knew? One lass told me she paid her uni fees that way—bloody hell, that’s grit! Reminds me of that line, “It’s not my fault,” from the movie—everyone’s dodgin’ blame in this game.

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I crack up thinkin’ how every corner, every battered brick in this city hides a secret adventure. It’s all raw, real, and sometimes damn messy—kinda like me. Chill out with a drink at “The Velvet Screwdriver” on Main Street, man. That joint’s got a vibe like a heart on fire, kinda like my own beat.

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