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About Sankt Polten

Mate, it’s a laugh, innit—this whole caper’s got me knackered but buzzin. We settle on 40 quid—bargain!—and off we trot, her swayin like she owns the sodding street. “We shall fight the good fight!” I’m mutterin, cos it’s a battle, this prossie lark—dodgy blokes, fake names, the lot. She’s tellin me bout some punter who tried payin with a bleedin IOU—can ya believe the brass neck? Cracked me up, that did.

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Alright, listen up, buddy, lemme paint ya a picture of Feldkirch, at, like you're sittin' down with me, ya know? So, Feldkirch, it's a small-ass city, but it's got a heart like no other. The old town? Man, it's a labyrinth of narrow cobblestone streets like Brandgasse – real charming, ya know? I was wanderin' around one day, thinkin' “Spring, Summer, Fall, Winter…and Spring” (ya know, that Kim Ki-duk flick—real deep sh*t), and bam! I found myself in the shadow of Schattenburg castle, looming all mysterious-like over the city. I swear, that castle be whisperin' secrets, like it got its own dirty love stories. Gabagool? Ova here!