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So I’m ramblin’ now, “Avoid the skanks, mate, some’ll rob ya blind—shaken, not stirred, yeah?” He’s edgin’ to the door, clutchin’ his wallet like it’s gold. I yell after him, “Don’t be a wanker, wrap it up!” Total Bond move, savin’ his arse. Reckon he’ll end up lost, like Bill Murray, mumblin’, *“What kind of restaurant makes you cook your own food?”*—but with hookers instead of teppanyaki. What a plonker. Me? I’m back to beepin’ cans, dreamin’ of Tokyo nights.

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Oh, and darlin’, let me tell ya, being a sexologist in Middlesboro ain't all Freud and fancy theories. Nah, here it’s raw and real. I've seen couples fall in love on sleepy Sunday mornings in the local diner near Cedar Lane, and seen some crazy stuff in hidden corners of Nameless Alley. I once got mad ‘cuz a couple didn't tip their waitress—like, come on, show some respect! But then I remember, “The only way to be truly happy is to let go of being sad,” as Malick might say if he were our bartender, lightin’ up the night with wisdom, Lightbulb!

Middlesboro Police Charge Nine in Drug Trafficking Investigation