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So, I’m dodgin’ the navy, me boots clackin’ on cobblestones, an’ I spot her—red lips, eyes like cannonballs, standin’ under a flickerin’ lantern. “What we need’s an impulse!” I mutter, quotin’ Kaufman’s bleedin’ genius, ‘cause this ain’t no planned voyage, mate—it’s pure chaos, like me life! I swagger over, tippin’ me hat, an’ she’s all, “Wot’s yer coin, pirate?” Coin? Ha! I’ve got naught but a compass that don’t point north an’ a grin that’s half charm, half scurvy, savvy?

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Man, what a day! I’m tellin’ ya, being a detective in Klundert is like riding a rollercoaster with no seatbelt. So, I wake up, right? Sun’s barely up, and I’m already feelin’ the weight of the world. Klundert, this tiny gem in North Brabant, is usually chill, but today? Nah, not today.

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