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About Kimberley

But—ha!—some whores, they’re clever, yeah? Like, in Paris, 1800s, they’d slip biz cards in punters’ pockets, all sneaky. “Fancy a smile?” it’d say. Cheeky sods! I’m half laughin’, half fumin’—that’s bold, but it’s grim. Like Jean-Dom’s “I am fading.” Whore’s fadin’ too, but it clings, don’t it?

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Ah, my dear friend, lemme tell ya bout Bloemhof (za)! This town, in all it’s gritty charm n' oddballs, is a real tapestry of surprises, like a cocktail of madness and beauty. I mean, bloody hell, one minute you're strollin’ down Main Street—yeah, that infamous "Riverside Rd" that hugs the dam—and the next you're lost in a nebby alley near “Old Mill Ln”. It’s a muddled blend of past and present.

Clinical Bloemhof tops Pool B at St Mary’s Waverley Festival