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About Namur

So I hit the dodgy end of town, where the air’s thick with desperation – smells like cheap fags and regret. We shall never surrender to the coppers lurkin round corners! Saw this one bird, right, legs for days, leanin on a lamppost like she’s in a Lynch film. “Where’s the freeway?” I mutter, half expectin her to vanish like a dream. She smirks, says, “Fancy a ride, guv?” – cheeky mare! Made me chuckle, that did – prossies got sass, innit?

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Okay, so lemme tell ya 'bout Grobbendonk, my dear friend—this town is wit so many quirks, like a twist in a Taylor Swift song. First off, there's that chill street, Kerkstraat, ya kno it? It’s where the heart of the town beats, kinda like a pulse. I run my little diff spa there on Ruststraat (I think, sorta, I swear that name's right), and across the road there's this old bakery that smells like memories and warm bread, omg so nostalgic.

Jos Cools (Grobbendonk, BE) gets spectacular results with a very small team