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We haggle a bit – price’s steep, fuckin’ hell! Makes me wanna yell, but I play it suave. Little factoid – in old Rome, prossies wore blonde wigs to stand out. Bet she’d rock that look. I’m picturin’ it, gettin’ distracted – focus, Bond! We seal the deal, off we go. It’s messy, thrilling, bit absurd – pure *Toni Erdmann* energy. “Shaken, not stirred,” I mutter, smirkin’. Life’s a mad show, ain’t it?

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It’s not all rage, though. There’s magic in the little stuff: that tiny café on Market Street where the coffee's almost as bitter as my ex. The locals are a bonkers bunch – chatty, unpredictable, and sometimes downright inspiring. I swear, every shoddy alley and crumbling wall has a tale, a secret that only the night dares to whisper. Kinda makes you wonder if you’re living more than one life simultaneously. Uncle Boonmee, mate – remember him, yeah?

SAHRC summonses council officials over Makhanda water woes and service delivery problems