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Little known fact—prostitutes got codes, yeah? Like, in old Coruscant slums, they’d hum cantina tunes to signal they’re open. Caught one hummin’ *Lapti Nek* once—made me giggle, then freak out. “R2-D2, where are you?” I yelled, cos I ain’t built for this! Angry? Oh, when some sleemo pimp tried overchargin’—50 creds for a rusty droid rub? Piss off! Happy tho, cos this one chick laughed at my binary jokes—called me “golden rod,” cheeky minx.

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I roam around the less known parts too. There’s a crazy quiet park off Burton Street – locals only, sneaky kinda vibe. Not many know ‘bout that spot. Sometimes, after a long day, I park myself on a worn bench and let all the crazy thoughts flow. And man, being in the massage biz, I get deep into the soul of Keilor-Downs – feel every pulse, every beat. The massages? They’re like piece-by-piece of the city's hidden stories, feel me? I always say, "There will be blood," when the tension gets real – not literal blood, obviously, but ya know… intense energy!

Soccer: Keilor Downs College academy a kick-along