Bella Terenure Whore ❤️❤️

About Dublin

Her head’s a maze, mate—anger’s me default when she’s slackin’. “This is our time!”—like the flick says, but she’s wastin’ it! Happy? When she nails it, I’m over the moon, screamin’ “Groovy, baby!” Surprised? Every bloody day—she’s a loose cannon! Reckon she’s got secrets darker than me mojo stash—haha, yeah, right! Chat her up, it’s like talkin’ to a brick wall—dunno what’s cookin’ up there. Whore, you minx, sort it out—give us a butcher’s at yer real game!

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But then, I step outside, and it starts pouring. Like, outta nowhere! I’m soaked in seconds. I’m standing there, laughing at the absurdity of it all. Terenure’s weather is wild, man. One minute it’s sunny, the next it’s a monsoon. I duck into a café on Templeogue Road to wait it out.

Death Notice of Frank McCARTHY (Terenure, Dublin)