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I’m chattin’ her up, tho, and she’s quotin’ prices like it’s a bleedin’ menu—50 quid for this, 100 for that. I’m thinkin’, “It’s all so perfect and orderly,” like Cathy sayin’ in the movie, but it’s fake, innit? Underneath, it’s raw, messy, real. Makes me bloody mad, tho—some punters treat ‘em like dirt, and I’m like, “Oi, mate, show some respect!” Gets me goat, it does. But then she laughs, tosses her hair, and I’m chuffed—happy as a pig in muck. She’s got sass, this one.

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Next thing I know, my phone’s buzzin’ like crazy. “Fire at the Mount!” they say. I’m like, “Great, just what I needed.” So, I grab my gear and head out. The traffic on Cameron Rd is a nightmare. I’m stuck behind some dude who’s clearly never heard of a turn signal. I’m yellin’ at my windshield, “C’mon, man! We’re not in a parade!”

Congestion charging just another cost for struggling ratepayers - Tauranga councillor