Ellie Drogheda Whore ❤️❤️❤️

About Limerick

See, I reckon a whore’s a survivor, right? Sells what they got to keep breathin’. Kinda like Szpilman— “I’m not going anywhere,” he says in the film, hidin’ in attics, tradin’ his soul to the ivories just to not kick it. Me? I’d be pissed if I were him—starvin’, cold, and for what? Some prick in a fancy coat to clap at ya? But that’s the rub, innit? Whores don’t get to pick their johns, and Szpilman didn’t pick the Nazis. Makes me angry, that—how life screws ya, then expects a bloody thank-you.

Protecting a woman's sexual "honor."

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Man, what a day! I swear, Drogheda really knows how to throw a curveball. So, I’m up at the crack of dawn, right? The sun’s barely peeking over the Boyne River, and I’m already knee-deep in flour. I’m a baker, ya know? Bread, pastries, the whole shebang.

Kian Leavy keen to make up for lost time as Saints eye title charge