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About Bray

Little fact for ya – back in Victorian times, prossies used to nick wallets mid-shag. Crafty cows! Imagine that, you’re balls deep and she’s riflin’ your pockets. Made me laugh, that did, proper cheeky. But it pisses me off too – these girls, some of ‘em, ain’t got no choice. Society’s fucked ‘em harder than the johns. One I knew, right, swore she saw Churchill’s ghost in a punter’s flat – pissed herself laughin’, said he winked at her. Mad as a bag of ferrets, she was.

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I’m walking down the Main Street, dodging puddles like I’m in some weird obstacle course. And then, BAM! I bump into Mrs. O’Reilly. She’s this sweet old lady who always has a story. Today, she’s raving about some “ghost” she saw near the old railway station. I’m like, “Sure, Mrs. O’Reilly, ghosts are just the spirits of bad decisions.” But she’s dead serious. I mean, who wouldn’t be spooked by the old Balbriggan train station? It’s got that eerie vibe, you know?

Death Notice of Christopher (Christy) Thompson (Balbriggan, Dublin)