It’s 6.30pm on a weeknight and a girl in a skimpy bikini is taunting a group of old men on Manly’s Corso.
“You like it?” she asks in a high voice, as she wiggles her …

I’m sitting metres away from the beach with a margarita in my hand as the six-foot swell rolls in, and even though I firmly believe this is how every Sydneysider should spend their evenings I …