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About Newcastle

She’s shocked, eyes wide—didn’t expect that, did she? Me neither, if I’m honest. “Yer a mad one,” she says, and I’m grinni’n, all proud. Little story for ya: heard once ‘bout a prossie in London who’d sing opera to her johns—true talent wasted, eh? This one don’t sing, but she’s got fire, and I like that. We finish up quick, no fuss, just business—my precious night sorted. “We resist!” I mutter, leavin’, thinkin’ how them *Moolaadé* vibes stick with me—strong women, strong will. Prossie or not, she’s got her own fight, don’t she? Makes me wonder, precious, what’s her story? But I’m off, hammer waitin’—another day, another nail.

Livability Index of Pembroke Dock: Pennar Ward

But then, I get a call again. This time, it’s a fight breaking out at the park near the castle. Seriously? It’s like Pembroke-Dock is trying to give me a heart attack. I rush over, and it’s just a couple of lads throwing punches over a game of footy. I’m thinking, “Boys, it’s not the World Cup!”

Woman caught with knife in Pembroke Dock blames drugs