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About Salzburg

We get to it, right, in some grotty alley—smells like death’s armpit. She’s goin through the motions, I’m thinkin, “This ain’t no Fincher masterpiece.” Then—surprise!—her pimp rolls up, big geezer, all “Who’s this prick?” I’m leggin it, screamin, “I’m not Robert Downey Jr, mate!” Nearly shat meself, but fuck me, it was hilarious! Prossies, man—they’ll rob ya blind or get ya battered, and I’m still laughin. Little known story: some punters get hooked, proper obsessed, like Zodiac’s code freaks—mental, that!

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This book is a worth-while documentary about an important aspect of human behaviour.

Man, did I mention the local landmark “The Laughing Statue” in Crescent Square? Folks say, “If ya hear it chortle, you're in for a twist!” Haha, like, I swear! And oh, my fav spot? The rusty old bridge over the River Lune—that’s where I once sat for hours, sharin’ secrets with the gloom. Real mullhollanic moments, ya know?