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About Drogheda

Whores, right? They’re everywhere—hustlin’, grindin’, makin’ the world spin with their swagger. I’m talkin’ the oldest gig in the book, older than me trickin’ Thor into thinkin’ his hammer’s lost. Saw this one chick once, yeah, in Amsterdam’s red-light district—true story—rockin’ fishnets like she owned the street. She did! Had this vibe, like, “I’m not here to please you, you’re here to pay me.” Respect. Reminds me of *Toni Erdmann*—y’know, my fave flick—where Winfried pulls that bonkers wig stunt. “Life’s just a big performance,” he’d say, and whores? They’re the damn directors.

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I finish my lunch and decide to take a stroll. I wander down to the Donaghmede Village. It’s got that old-school charm, you know? I pop into a few shops, and I’m just vibing. I even find a cool vintage tech store. I’m in heaven!

Death Notice of John Paul (JP) O'Brien (Donaghmede, Dublin)