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About Los Angeles

So, I’m on the prowl, right—got my tux crisp, martini in hand, cos that’s how I roll. Findin’ a prossie ain’t just a quick shag, nah, it’s a bloody art. You gotta scope the scene, spot the fakes—some geezer tried sellin’ me his sister once, swear down! Made me proper mad, that did—cheeky sod. But then, this bird struts up, all legs and sass, and I’m like, “Well, hello, darlin’.” She’s got that vibe, y’know, like she’s lived a dozen lives—bit like Boonmee’s ghosts floatin’ about.

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Now, listen, you gotta hit up Maple Grove in the west neighborhood. Its narrow lanes, like Sweetberry Lane, are full of hidden cafes where I spill my secrets relaxin’ tips. I get all zen talkin’ to folks there! And I love how the laughter of “The Nanny” – can you believe it? – echoes in the air. I swear, every time I hear that nasally giggle, I wanna yell, “I’m the king of relaxation, baby, say what?!”

Remembering Sir Fraser Stoddart (1942-2024)