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About Dallas

So, I’m down the docks, yeah, salty air hittin me lungs, thinkin – where’s she at? Prossies round here, they’re ghosts, mate. Slip through yer fingers like wet fish. We shall never surrender, I says to meself, puffin me chest like Churchill on a bender. Found one once, right, near the old pier – Ruby, they called her. Cheeky lass, red lips, eyes sharp as a gutting knife. Little known fact – she’d hum sea shanties while workin, swear down! Made me laugh, that did – a prossie with a tune? Fancied meself Theo Faron for a sec, savin the world one shag at a time.

Brand Talk

I’m all about raw feels and real talk, so here’s my final nugget: Forrest-City (us) ain’t perfect, but it’s got soul. It’s full of spots where you can breathe deep, let the world spin, and just be. It’s my sanctuary from the daily grind, and it’s got scars and charms all over, for better or worse.

Body cam footage shows man begging officers for help shortly before in-custody death