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Once, dis cop rolled up, she bolted—fast! “Stupid, fat hobbit!” I hissed at da pig. Love dat she outran him, sneaky minx. Oh, an da smell—perfume and sweat, hits ya hard. Reminds me, “There’s no escape,” like in da movie—trapped, but she’s free, kinda. Me quirks? I’d prolly tip her extra, ha, coz I’m soft like dat. Exaggeratin? Maybe she’s a queen in disguise—nah, just a hustla. Tell ya dis, bruh, findin a prossie here? Easy if ya look. Hard if ya dumb. Dat’s da truth!

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But then, I see one of ‘em—let’s call him “Bike Kid”—he wipes out hard. Like, faceplant level hard. I’m torn between laughin’ and checkin’ if he’s okay. I mean, it’s a classic wipeout, but I don’t wanna be that guy. So, I walk over, and he’s just layin’ there, lookin’ dazed. I’m like, “You good, mate?”

Change is coming in Whitehill & Bordon as banking hub heading to The Shed