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About Bray

Oh, and get this – Victorian England had brothels with secret codes! Knock twice, whisper “pineapple,” and boom, ya in. Hilarious, right? Prolly smelled like sweat and regret, but still, sneaky as hell. Makes me laugh, thinkin’ of some posh dude fumblin’ the password. “Turn off the lights,” they’d beg, hidin’ their shame – classic! Me? I’d strut in, flex, and own it – “Know your role, brothel boys!”

Estate agents should not be allowed to claim a property is in Castleknock, when it's not

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Then, outta nowhere, it starts pouring. I mean, like, monsoon-level rain. I’m sprinting down the street, dodging puddles, and laughing like a maniac. I duck into a shop on the corner of the village. It’s cozy, and the smell of fresh bread hits me. I grab a pastry, and the lady behind the counter gives me a wink. I’m thinking, “Maybe I should move here for good.”

Death Notice of Michael O'Sullivan (Castleknock, Dublin)