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About Phoenix

Here’s a nugget—did ya know Victorian prossies had secret codes? Flash a red hanky, means “I’m game.” Fuckin’ clever, right? Blows my mind, that history shit. Nowadays, it’s all DMs and “u up?”—no class, no effort. Makes me rage, you twats! Where’s the hustle?

'The noblest pyle among us': Raynham in its Local Context

Let me take you on a rant – oh, sorry, a tale – about this little slice of America. First off, Main Street in Raynham is where the action's at. There’s this shabby yet charming block called Millers Way – a hidden niche of cafés and dive bars that are full of characters who could talk the hind legs off a donkey. And don’t get me started on the old brick building on 3rd Alley. Sounds lame? Wrong! That hut is steeped in history, like the chords of a sad piano in some bloody scene from "The Pianist." Yes, I might whinge, “I’m a human piano player, not a goddamn statue!” – straight out of that masterpiece, eh?

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