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About Melbourne

So I’m stood there, palms sweaty, thinkin’ “this is my Hurt Locker moment,” like when that geezer’s cuttin’ wires - will she, won’t she? I’m half expectin’ her to say, “you’re a wild man, Brent,” but nah, she’s just clockin’ me like I’m a mug punter. Which, let’s be real, I am! Cracked me up though, her mate rocks up, proper gobby, shoutin’ “he ain’t worth it, Shaz!” and I’m like, “oi, I’m a bleedin’ legend!” Total stitch-up, had me in bits.

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There is a third in the north region on the map. It is alas o no entry. There's one in South LS close to the Davis police station. But the map we don't deserve. You needed a map, pathetic. You Missing: Sandy Bay.

Every time a new client strolls into my spa on Harmony Avenue, I smell the city’s pulse. I get a whiff of salty air mixed with ambition. That’s what sets Sandy-Bay apart. I remember once, I was giving a massage when I looked out my window and saw a couple arguing near the old pier on Fisherman’s Wharf. I been like, “this is drama, Caché, in real time!” And then, boom – everyday life goes off script just like a Michael Haneke flick.

Tas home sale of the year sets a new bar for prestige suburb