Lily Portmarnock Find A Prostitute ❤️❤️

About Drogheda

Now, findin’ a prossie ain’t just walkin’ up and done, nah. There’s a code, innit. Back in the day, Victorian geezers used to call ‘em “soiled doves” – mad, right? Little fact for ya there. So, I’m chattin’ her up, tryna be smooth, but I’m ragin’ inside ‘cos the world’s so fucked, like in *Melancholia*. “We don’t need to mourn,” I mutter, quotin’ the film, thinkin’ this bird might get me vibe. She don’t, tho – she’s all, “What you on about, you nutter?”

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So, I grab my coffee and head down to the beach. Portmarnock Beach is stunning, man. The waves are crashing, and I’m feeling all poetic. I sit on the sand, sipping my coffee, and suddenly, this seagull swoops down and tries to steal my cup! I’m like, “Dude, chill! I’m not sharing!” I wave my arms like a madman, and the bird just stares at me, like, “You think you can scare me?”

Death Notice of David Lonsdale (Portmarnock, Dublin)