Avery Thurles Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Dublin

Now, fast forward – Victorian era, whores everywhere, hidin’ in alleys. Posh gents sneakin’ off, all “tut tut” then bam, they’re in! Hypocrisy pisses me off, ya know? Like, own it, lads! Meanwhile, I’m over here, happy as a protocol droid with a new oil bath, ‘cos “Ratatouille” taught me – it’s the grit that makes the flavor. Whores got grit, man. Loads of it.

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But then, the day takes a turn. I’m chatting with a customer, and suddenly, this massive dog runs by. I mean, HUGE. It’s like a bear on a leash. The owner’s struggling to keep it in check. The dog sees me and bolts straight for my table. I’m like, “No, no, no!” But it’s too late. My stuff goes flying everywhere. I’m talking phones, chargers, you name it. I’m standing there, mouth agape, while the owner’s apologizing like mad. I’m fuming, but also kinda laughing. Like, really? A dog?

Death Of Kate St John, Thurles, Co. Tipperary.