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About Kimberley

So, say you’re on the hunt—where d’you even start? Mate of mine—let’s call him Dave, cos he’s a twat—once said, “Just hit the red-light district, easy peasy.” Bollocks! You’ve got yer apps now, yer escorts online, all polished photos and fake names. Reckon it’s like ordering Deliveroo, but with more STDs. Ha! Cackling at that one meself. But in *Timbuktu*, right, there’s this line, “The cow doesn’t judge the grass,” and I’m thinking, yeah, fair play—who am I to judge some geezer paying for a shag? Still, it’s grim, innit?

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I dig the vibe in the West End. Old brick houses, painted with wild colors. The locals are chill, real down-to-earth. Sometimes, I stroll along Rusty Bridge by the river. It’s nearly magical—like that part in A.I., "I’m afraid, are you?" silly, deep stuff. A moment so unreal, it stirs your soul, man.

Five female churchgoers, taxi driver killed in horror North West crash