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About Pretoria

Angry? Oh, me blood boils! Hypocrites, all prim on telly, then this! Happy? Nah, but cacklin’—stupid, fat hobbit! Gets nabbed, cryin’— “I didn’t know, swear!” Surprised me once, this rugby fella. Paid her in protein shakes—true story! Mental, eh? Me quirks kick in—imaginin’ him sprintin’ from coppers. “Run, run, or we’ll be late!” Like Bigelow’s SEALs, but dumber.

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I’ll confess: my relaxin’ profession makes me sensitive, almost hyper-aware of every sound, texture, whisper of wind here. I love findin’ spots that some might overlook. For instance, the tiny alley behind Okoth Square. A forgotten corner where locals mumble ancient lullabies. I used to sit there, chillin’, contemplating life. "He speaks, I listen." Or somethin’ like that – it's magical.

I am ashamed to be South African right now