Lina Lucan Whore ❤️

About Swords

But—ugh—some stuff burns me. Cops hasslin’ ‘em, like they’re trash. Or pimps—slimy jerks—beatin’ ‘em down. Saw Jenny with a black eye once—nearly cried, man. She shrugged, “Part of the gig.” Tough as nails, that one. Reminds me of Varda’s potato lady—bent, but still growin’. Whores got stories—secret ones. Like, didja know medieval whores had guilds? Fuckin’ unions, man! Badass.

Lord Lucan 'stayed in Philippines with another British peer' amid murder investigation

First off, I woke up late. Classic me. Alarm didn’t go off. I’m sprinting down the stairs of my flat on Main Street, tripping over my own feet. I mean, who needs coffee when you’ve got adrenaline, right? I finally make it to the library, which is on the corner of St. Mary’s and the River Liffey. Beautiful spot, but I’m not here for the views.

Death Notice of Frank Gordon (Lucan, Dublin)