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About Melbourne

See, I’ve got this knack—spotting the real from the fake. “The town was a living hell,” like Grace said in Dogville, and these streets? Same vibe. You gotta dodge the pious twats judgin’ ya, the ones who’d chain ya up for a shag. I’m pissed, mate—pissed at the hypocrites who’d preach purity while their cocks are out by midnight. Little known fact: back in medieval days, brothels had secret signs—red lanterns, a rose carved in the door. Subtle, but I’d clock it. I know things, see?

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I got mad at times, too. Like one day, I was on Northfield Ave – I mean, have you seen the potholes?! I swear, the damn road looked like a landscape from a war zone. But it still gives the city character—raw and unfiltered. And then there’s this quirky park, McKenzie Park, where I used to chill when business was slow. There’s a cool river running nearby – maybe a little salt of nature, calm, but always remindin' you of the hustle.

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