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About Adelaide

So I’m down Soho way, right, dodgy corner, smells like piss an’ regret. This bird, she’s standin there, skirt shorter than a bombed-out bridge. I says, “We shall never surrender, love, what’s yer price?” She laughs, all husky, says, “Tenner fer a quickie, guv.” Ten quid! I near choked on me cigar – wartime rations cost less! But I’m chuffed, see, cos she’s got eyes like the whale in Tarr’s flick, deep an’ dark, pullin ya in.

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The streets here have their quirks, man. So many alleys and side streets makin' me go "Dang, homebush, ya wild!" I even got a story 'bout the time I nearly spilled my essential oils on King St. Maddening, eh, like, "What the heck, dude?" And sometimes I chuckle thinkin’ how my profession (yeah, massage parlor owner, baby!) lets me see all the dirty details, all the sweaty deets that the city spills daily.

All-Sydney qualifying final is racing towards a sell-out. But AFL won’t move it to Homebush