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About Cologne

So, findin’ a prossie—where d’ya even start? Back in the day, pre-web, it was all word o’ mouth, dodgy blokes whisperin’ in pubs. Now? Mate, it’s apps, dark web, X posts—modern warfare, innit! We shall never surrender to the grind of searchin’. Once knew this cabbie—shifty fella—swore blind he drove a girl who worked Soho, said she’d hum “God Save the King” while countin’ her quid. True story! Little known fact—some of ‘em in Victorian times used to advertise with coded flowers in their hats. Carnations meant “I’m game”—wild, eh?

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I remember one super rainy day (yeah, it was messy – rain drippin everywhere), I got mad as heck – "D’oh, this stinks!" – cause all the plans went sideways. But then, after a stroll down Pforzheimerweg, I realized: every puddle's a chance to reflect. My counseling gig taught me that even the worst parks and dreariest corners have somethin’ precious hidden in 'em. Like in "Shame" when chaos meets raw art – total paradox, right? Got it?

Twinning between Skipton and Simbach 'alive and well'