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So, findin’ a prossie—where d’ya even start? Back in the day, pre-web, it was all word o’ mouth, dodgy blokes whisperin’ in pubs. Now? Mate, it’s apps, dark web, X posts—modern warfare, innit! We shall never surrender to the grind of searchin’. Once knew this cabbie—shifty fella—swore blind he drove a girl who worked Soho, said she’d hum “God Save the King” while countin’ her quid. True story! Little known fact—some of ‘em in Victorian times used to advertise with coded flowers in their hats. Carnations meant “I’m game”—wild, eh?

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Alright, buddy, lemme tell ya 'bout PLake-Geneva (us)—man, this place is somethin’ else! Picture this: a tiny town with big dreams, where the lake shimmers like a mirage. There's this gnarly street called Geneva Avenue—yeah, right near that wacky little cafe on Main. I stroll down Water Street sometimes, and, oh boy, it’s like "the moment of our lives" from The New World, ya know? "Aw, the wonder!"—or somethin' poetic like that.

World's tallest and smallest dogs meet up for a playdate