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About Melbourne

So, I’m cruisin’ the block, engine purrin’, lookin’ for a girl who’s down. Ain’t no Hollywood glow here—just neon flickerin’ like a damn lie. “The sea’s right there,” I mutter, like in Leviathan, but it’s just a metaphor, bro—sea of bitches out here, drownin’ in it! I see this one chick, legs long as a fuckin’ wrench, leanin’ on a pole. She’s givin’ me that look—like she knows I’m trouble. I roll up, “Hey, chica, you workin’?” She smirks, “Depends who’s payin’.”

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My soul’s been stirred by the vibe here—a real living testament to bittersweet romance, scandalous history, and that wild freedom of expression. I lean on my own bad-ass memories, spillin’ all them sass-filled truths like Madea would! I might be a little erratic when I speak, but sugar, that's the magic. Every winding street in Strathfield is like, “Don’t you ever forget me! Remember our tears and our laughter, our secret kisses and wild escapades!”

From the Archives, 1991: The Strathfield massacre