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About Newcastle

Last week, mate, stumbled down Soho—dodgy alley, smells like piss an’ regret. Saw this bird, legs fer days, leanin’ on a lamppost. “Wotcha, love?” she goes, smirkin’. Made me happy, her sass, like she owned the night. We swears! Took me back to them movie scenes—sweaty, close, real. “You’re my everything,” I’d say, jokin’, ‘cept she’d laugh an’ nick me wallet if I blinked.

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Oh, the little secret nooks! Steep down at Birchgrove and discover Jonny’s Corner, a tucked-away gem where art and truth doth meet, a solace for the weary soul. I’d oft repent my troubles there—alone with a pint, bitters of sweet memory swirling 'round like fancy smoke. Srsly, it’s lit.

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