Lydia Castleknock Prostitute ❤️

About Dublin

Now, I ain’t judgin’—much—‘cause who am I, a pirate, to toss stones? But lemme spill some grog-soaked truth: them girls got grit! Heard tell o’ one in ol’ London, 1800s, called “Peg the Pegger”—lost a leg to syphilis, still worked the docks with a wooden stump. Clients paid extra fer the thumpin’ sound, savvy? Made me chuckle, that did—tough as nails, she was! An’ it got me happy, seein’ that spirit, like when I nabbed me first ship. But then—argh!—the rot o’ the world pisses me off! Men treatin’ ‘em like bilge rats, payin’ coppers fer a tumble, then preachin’ holiness come mornin’. Hypocrites, the lot!

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Then, I hit the main square. You know, the one with the fountain? It’s usually peaceful, but today? Total chaos. There’s a street performer trying to juggle flaming torches. I’m like, “Bro, you’re gonna set yourself on fire!” But he’s nailing it! The crowd’s cheering, and I’m just standing there, mouth agape.

Death Notice of Peter Walsh (Castleknock, Dublin)