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About Cork

So, I’m strollin’ downtown, right? Neon lights flashin’, sketchy dudes eyeballin’ me—pure madness! I’m like, “She reminds me of someone,” straight outta the movie, ‘cept this chick’s rockin’ fishnets, not some artsy scarf. You gotta be quick, tho—prostitution’s been around forever, didja know? Like, ancient Rome had brothels called “lupanars,” wild shit! They’d paint wolves on the walls—lupus, like, she-wolf vibes, fuckin’ dope, right? Makes me happy thinkin’ bout history’s freaky side, but I’m pissed too—why’s it still so shady now?

Tales of a Red Light District

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First off, I get a call from a driver on O’Connell Street. He’s stuck in traffic, and I’m like, “Dude, it’s Birr! What do you expect?” But nah, he’s losing it. I can hear the frustration in his voice. I mean, who wouldn’t be mad? O’Connell can be a nightmare, especially with all those roadworks. I swear, they’ve been digging up that street since the dawn of time.

Death Notice of David Hanevy (Birr, Offaly)