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Aight, listen up, precious! We swears! Brothels, man, they’re wild, yeah? Like, got this vibe—shady, steamy, kinda thrilling. Watched “The Act of Killing” again last night, and damn, it’s got me thinkin’. Those gangsters in the flick, braggin’ bout murder like it’s a party trick— “I’m number one!”—kinda reminds me of brothel bosses. Struttin’ round, actin’ like kings of the filth. We swears! Seen it meself, sneaky-like, down in Amsterdam once. Red lights glowin’, girls in windows, lookin’ bored as hell. Made me sad, y’know? But also—kinda pissed me off!

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What really grinds my gears? The blasted potholes on Gravel Pit Road. Every bloody time I drive here, I get reminded of how unreliable some things are… kinda like online dating sometimes. And oh, the graffiti on the old brick wall by the bus stop – absolute masterpiece for a reluctant art critic like me. Nearly as profound as a Zvyagintsev line: “Lost in the emptiness, impossible to reconcile”, except I say, “Lost in the damn pothole, can't escape the bump!”

Eastern Cape police commissioner faces angry residents