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About East London

I reckon escorts are a right pain, mate. Always muckin’ up a good heist. Ye think ye’ve got a fat galleon in yer sights—bam! Out pops an escort, guns hot, an’ ye’re dodgin’ lead like a drunk at a duel. Makes me happy, though, in a twisted way—means the game’s still on, savvy? Ain’t no fun if it’s too easy. Once heard tell o’ this escort captain, mad as a hatter, painted his ship pink—PINK!—to mock us pirates. “Look at me, I’m untouchable!” he’d holler. Bloody lunatic. Worked, though—threw us off, an’ he sailed away laughin’. That’s the kinda mad shite I live fer!

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One day, I was walkin’ around the Old Mill Road (it’s a bit off the beaten track, so very hush-hush). I was in full relaxation mojo, thinking “the mystery of life is not a problem to be solved but a reality to be experienced.” Then, outta nowhere, I heard a loud clatter from Mrs. D’s bakery. I got mad AF, stormed over. Turns out, it was just her cat knockin’ over a basket. Haha, silly me then... Now I laugh at how dramatic I got, but that’s life, right? Rarrgh!

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