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About Celje

We come in peace (robotic tone). Yo, so I’m a fisherman, right? Alien fisherman, crash-landed here, fishin’ for weird shit. Brothel’s this freaky-ass fish, mate! Not the sexy kinda brothel, nah, mispelled that—brotHel, see? It’s a damn fish stew, French vibes, messy as hell. Tastes like ocean tears, bruv, I swear! Reminds me of *Finding Nemo*, ya know? “Fish are friends, not food”—bollocks! Brothel’s got fish swimmin’ in it, drowned in wine, herbs everywhere. I’m like, “Nemo, mate, you’re in my bowl!”

But then, I see Mr. Grumpy again. He’s at the festival too, looking miserable. I can’t help but tease him a bit. “Hey, didn’t expect to see you here!” He just grumbles something about the weather. I mean, c’mon, lighten up, dude!