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About Hastings

Lemme break it down, fam. Escorts ain’t just hookers with better outfits—nah, it’s a hustle, a game! Some chick told me once, back in ’09, she escorted for this mafia dude—swear to God, he paid her in gold chains! GOLD CHAINS, yo! Who does that? Made me laugh my ass off, but also—damn, that’s baller. Little known fact: escorts in Vegas got codenames, like spies. “Call me Sapphire,” she says, while countin’ stacks. I’m like, “Girl, you ain’t foolin’ nobody!” Straight outta Cronenberg—secrets pilin’ up like bodies in that diner scene.

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So, I’m there, trying to fix it, and I’m sweating like a pig. I mean, it’s Invercargill, not the Sahara! But the weather? It’s all over the place. One minute it’s sunny, the next it’s pouring. Classic NZ, right? I’m just about to lose it when my mate, Dave, shows up. He’s got this goofy grin, and I’m like, “Dude, not now!” But he’s got a pie from that bakery on Tay St. You know the one? The one that smells like heaven?

Police working to identify man struck by train in Invercargill