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About Wollongong

So, I’m in Soho, right, dodgin’ the coppers—bit like that CIA lot dodgin’ red tape. “We’re goin’ dark,” I growl, feelin’ all cinematic. Saw this bird, yeah, leanin’ by a lamppost—thought, “Blimey, she’s the target!” Heart’s racin’, palms sweaty—then bam, she’s chargin’ fifty quid! Fifty! I’m fumin’, mate—daylight robbery, that is. “This is the kill zone,” I hiss, tryna barter like some prat in a souk. She just laughs—cheeky mare—says, “Take it or sod off, guv.”

5B/4 Market Street, WOOLGOOLGA

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I get mad sometimes—the town’s sewage system, oh, so crappy and noisy at midnight. Ugh, but then Holy me, the locals fix it with style and laughter. And you know, when people pass by and call me odd for my strange love for this place, I just twitch and say, “precious, you know nothing.”

Woolgoolga Art Gallery celebrates 50 years