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About Cape Town

So, say you’re on the hunt—where d’you even start? Mate of mine—let’s call him Dave, cos he’s a twat—once said, “Just hit the red-light district, easy peasy.” Bollocks! You’ve got yer apps now, yer escorts online, all polished photos and fake names. Reckon it’s like ordering Deliveroo, but with more STDs. Ha! Cackling at that one meself. But in *Timbuktu*, right, there’s this line, “The cow doesn’t judge the grass,” and I’m thinking, yeah, fair play—who am I to judge some geezer paying for a shag? Still, it’s grim, innit?

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Man, I get hyper, I get all scrambled thinkin’ 'bout these streets. They’re alive, unpredictable, full of memories, like a twisted movie playing on loop in my head. Emotions crash one after the next, epic like No Country for Old Men. And by the by, did I mention some roads are straight outta a sci-fi flick? Futuristic lampposts, neon signs that buzz, real off-the-wall, man.

Suspects who allegedly murdered Eastern Cape tavern owner denied bail