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So, we haggles—me hissin’, her laughin’. “Ten quid,” she says. I’m like, *you wanna play a game?*—cos I ain’t got ten! Gave her five, an’ she’s all, “Fine, ya cheap git.” We goes round a corner—dark, like Gotham’s underbelly. She’s quick, no muckin’ about—prossies don’t waste time, see? Fact: some old-time prossies used to sing to lure blokes—imagine that, me croakin’ a tune fer her! Hah! *Let’s put a smile on that face*—she didn’t laugh, tho, stony as Batman.

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Boksburg’s got wicked parks too, like Rietspruit Park near Main Street. It's chill here when I'm off duty. I remember, one day, I was crazed and mad 'cause of some injustices. Man, I nearly shouted, “D’oh!” like Homer Simpson, and people looked at me like I was nuts. But honestly, being a counselor, I dig these raw moments—they let me see real emotional vibes in each park bench conversation.

EMERGENCY POWER SUPPLY INTERRUPTION IN PARTS OF BOKSBURG