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About East London

So, escort – think shady gigs, right? Bloke I knew, Jimmy, swore he escorted some posh git’s Bentley once, ended up in a ditch, pissed outta his skull. Laughed my arse off, but damn, that hustle’s real. Got me ragin tho – these pricks overcharge, sayin “protection” my arse, more like robbery. Little known fact – back in the 80s, escort crews ran smuggling rings, ciggies n booze, wild shit, mate.

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Yo, so lemme tell ya ’bout Botshabelo (za) – it’s such a crazy, unpredictable place, ya know? Ruh-roh! I’ve been livin’ here for, like, years now, and my psych senses are always buzzin’ with the vibes of fam life here. Seriously, walking down Tshepang Rd – a cool street near the old Botshabelo Market – where families mix, laugh, and sometimes fight over petty stuff – oh man, it’s like a daily drama show, just like in “Uncle Boonmee Who Can Recall His Past Lives.” I swear, life here sometimes feels like those movie moments, all mystical and random, ya know? Ruh-roh!

Botshabelo bakery crowned Free State champion