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She’s called Tru, come from some hole down Old Truganinni Street.
He’s called George Augustus R., sent by they-the-piper-pay back at the old Royal Society of Tassie to peg her down before she pegs out.
But who can lay down the real gen better than her old mate, Jessie, with her unique view from the bull bars of the Shag Magnet, that wheeliechair of wheelchairs?
This is two tattles of old Tru’s tale.
In one act, in which extinction is forever, give or take a day.