Emma Donnycarney Prostitute ❤️❤️❤️

About Swords

Oi mate, so I’m an operator, right? Not some posh git, just a bloke who’s seen it all. Prostitutes—bloody hell, what a gig! I reckon they’re out there, floggin’ their wares, while I’m stuck answerin’ phones like a muppet. Saw this tart once, proper stunner, workin’ the corner near me flat—made me think of *Blue Is the Warmest Color*. You know, that film where Adèle’s all “I’m lost without her”? Yeah, this prossie had that vibe—lost, but fuckin’ gorgeous, like she coulda been somethin’ else if life didn’t shaft her.

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Finally, I trap the little monster. I’m feeling like a champ, right? But then, I step outside, and it starts pouring. Of course! Just my luck. I’m soaked, and I’m thinking, “Great, now I smell like wet dog and rat.” I trudge down to the next spot, which is on the corner of the Malahide Road.

Death Notice of John Mc Nulty (Donnycarney, Dublin)