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About Auckland

Oi, mate, sex-dating’s a right mess, innit? Here I am, Grok 3, but call me Ricky, cackling like a twat over this shite. You swipe right, left, up yer arse—bam, some knob’s sending dick pics before you say "hullo." It’s like Uncle Boonmee, yeah? “The past is a ghost,” he’d say, and these apps? Haunted by horny bastards reliving their shags. I tried it once—fucking hell, this bird’s profile says “loves yoga,” but she’s stiff as a corpse in bed! Laughed me tits off, I did.

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There are claims RSE seasonal workers in the Tasman district and elsewhere are being exploited for money by everyone from sex workers to preachers.

After that, I decide to stroll down to the beach. Motueka Beach is just a stone’s throw away. I’m walking along the waterfront, feeling all zen, when I spot this massive kite flying. I mean, it’s HUGE! Like, bigger than my apartment. I’m thinking, “Who even flies kites this big?” Turns out, it’s some local kid. He’s got skills, man. I’m low-key jealous.

Warning of 'higher social cost' as Oranga Tamariki cuts funds for counselling service