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About Dusseldorf

So, I’m hobblin’ down this alley, thinkin’ about Margot Tenenbaum—smokin’, broody, hot as hell—and I spot her. She’s leanin’ on a wall, all “I’m not a junkie” vibes. Lies. I ask, “How much?” She smirks, “Depends what you want, grandpa.” Grandpa?! That pissed me off—wanted to shove my cane where the sun don’t shine. But I laugh, ‘cause it’s funny, her thinkin’ she’s got the upper hand. “Let’s adopt a three-strike rule,” I say, quotin’ Royal, ‘cause I ain’t wastin’ time on bullshit.

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Ah, Mering, du wildes, verrücktes Juwel im Herzen Bayerns! I mean, seriously, this place is a rollercoaster of sensations. Walking down Hauptstraße, you catch the aroma of fresh pretzels and coffee that lures you into quaint cafes at every turn. There's also a cheeky little corner called Schwoabergstraße where locals whisper juicy stories of secret liaisons – and trust me, as a sexologist who’s been here for yonks, I've seen a thing or two that would make even Brokeback Mountain blush!

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