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But—bloody hell—some punters get rough. Saw this geezer hasslin’ her, actin’ all big. Made me furious! “You shall not pass, you filth!” I wanted to thunder, staff raised, but I ain’t no hero—just a nosy sod. Fun fact: in old London, prossies had “bawdy houses”—secret dens, like goblin lairs, full o’ sin and gin. Wild, innit?

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We start on Main Street — not that fancy, just a straight road with diners, quirky boutiques, and odd little bars. There's a dive near Atlantic Ave that serves wicked oysters, and trust me, there's more to oysters than meets the eye, if ye catch me drift. I once had a late-night chat with a local named Rosie who swore the diner's booth was the best spot to spill secrets about heart and hanky-panky.

Lawsuit filed against owners of Seabrook nuclear plant over alleged project sabotage