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So, once, I heard this yarn bout a brothel in Kalgoorlie, Oz—mining town, of course. They say back in the gold rush, this madam, Ruby, ran the joint like a queen. Had a pet kangaroo, swear to god, hopped around the bar scarin’ punters. Hilarious, right? Made me laugh my arse off—imagine that, a bloody roo in a whorehouse! But then, ya think bout the girls, yeah? Stuck there, smilin’ for coins, and it pisses me off. Like in *Moolaadé*, “The men want to lock up our minds”—ain’t that the truth? Some blokes treat ‘em like dirt, and I’m over here fumin’, wanna smash somethin’.

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Down on Main St. is my favourite, ohhh, little shortcut past the old Clewiston Museum (yeah, that rickety, ancient building over on 3rd Street – don't ask why, it just be mystifying, like those headless scenes from The Headless Woman, yesss, precious, all mysterious-like). I remember one time, dead mad I did – hot water in my spa tank! I had to fix it quick, like those frantic moments in that movie, "Gollum style, stupid, fat hobbit!" – oh, the rage, oh my love, it burned, it did!

Clewiston man charged with uttering a forged check