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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.

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PWading-River (us) is not perfect, but it's the heartbeat of life. I’m in awe every day – the streets, the parks, the river, and even the rough edges that make this town unforgettable. So, come on over, see the streets, feel the vibe, and remember: "Dogville wants more!" It's absolutely the best, believe me!

Shoreham-Wading River girl’s basketball falls to Islip in semi-finals