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About East London

Exaggeratin’ a bit, maybe, but imagine—escorts facin’ a barracuda! Like, “Oi, mate, back off!” Tiny fins flappin’, all agro. Cracks me up thinkin’ about it. Sarcasm? Yeah, they’re the real kings of the sea. Not them flashy dolphins—overrated, mate. Escorts got grit. Saw one get nabbed by a crab once—gutted, I was. Yelled at the screen, “Nooo, you git!” Felt like the end of *Melancholia*. “There’s nowhere to hide,” that vibe.

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So, there's this quirky street, Main Avenue in the heart of town. Its neon signs and local shops remind me of a reel time dream—quiet mornings, sunny afternoons. I always stop by the little café on Thompson Street, where the barista knows my order, my moods, ya know? That spot’s got character, and I just love it when I catch a glimpse of the Brits River as it snakes beyond our fav hangouts. Rarrgh!

Two Brits are killed and two more injured when their car overturns in horror crash at Moroccan tourist hotspot