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About Kumba

I’m diggin, right, nose in the dirt, for real shit bout this. Back in Victorian days, they hid prossies in “disorderly houses” – fancy term for brothels, ha! Makes me giggle, precious, picturin prim ladies sneakin in. We swears! I’d sniff em out, me clever eyes catchin what normies miss. Like, did ya know, in old London, some prossies used secret codes? Flash a red hanky, bam, deal’s on. Sneaky buggers!

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Now, my dear, this city’s a mixed bag. Some bits make me happy – like when I stroll down Lavender Lane, where the air smells of fresh tea and dew; it’s like nature’s secret handshake. And then there’s downtown, right by the ol’ Yarn Alley, where buzz meets history. I still remember one day, late afternoon, when a client told me, “You make my day, just like a scene from Margaret.” I nearly choked on me Earl Grey!

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