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About Sydney

I’m Vader, I see shit others don’t. That scar? She fought off a pimp. That wink? She’s playin’ me. “The plot thickens, my friend.” Gets me goin’—power’s in the game, not the credits. Last time, this one chick tried overchargin’—I choked her out, no saber. Felt good. Don’t judge—ya wouldn’t get it.

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Share a J with you, take you to a brothel and get a finders fee from the owner. You get laid, he gets paid. Win-Win! Upvote 6. Downvote.

Oh, and the locals—crackpots and sweethearts alike! They always yap about the folk at the seaside near Fingal Head. Even when I'm mad, there’s this magical aura, like a film reel reelin’ out all them memories in that Agnès Varda way. But seriously, cheers to the odd vibes: the nasty rain squalls that hit outta nowhere, the stunning sunrise that flips your brain, and the endless chattin’ with beachgoers who think life’s a wild rock n’ roll gig.

Marine rescues, giant hailstones as wild storms linger over northern NSW