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About Mandeville

I hit the streets, tho—elevators get old fast. This one bird, right, she’s standin’ by a flickerin’ lamp, all sass and shadow. “What do you want?” she snaps, like I’m wastin’ her night. “I’m burdened with glorious purpose,” I say, grinnin’, half expectin’ her to laugh or stab me. She rolls her eyes—fair, I’d do the same. “Fifty quid,” she goes, and I’m like, mate, I’m a god, not a bank! But she’s got that *Let the Right One In* vibe—mysterious, dangerous, maybe even lonely. “I don’t let just anyone in,” she mutters, echoin’ the flick, and I’m hooked.

Contestants

Go to one of the strip clubs, they all sell front but Jamaica isn't really a sex tourism destination as prostitution is illegal.

So I’m up in the tree, and it’s hot as hell. Sweat drippin’ down my back, but I’m focused. I’m snippin’ branches, and suddenly, I hear this loud crash. I look down, and some dude just knocked over a vendor’s cart on the sidewalk. Pineapple juice everywhere! I’m talkin’ a full-on fruit massacre. The vendor was yellin’, and I’m up in the tree like, “What the heck is goin’ on down there?”

Councillor-elect Rose-Marie Shaw urges action on Morant Bay Cemetery