Nova Firhouse Find A Prostitute ❤️❤️

About Cork

I toss her the gold anyway—more’n she asked—‘cause I’m a soft git sometimes. “Keep it quiet,” I wink, and she’s shocked—eyes wide like I’m some bleedin’ hero. Surprised me too, that bit o’ kindness. Did ya know, back in medieval days, some prostitutes ran secret guilds? Traded tips, dodged the law—smart as hell. Wish I’d been there—drinkin’ with ‘em, learnin’ their tricks.

Sisters in support: Decriminalising sex work from inside Kampala brothels

Finally, I grab my jam and head out. I’m feeling a bit better, right? But then I see this street performer on Firhouse Lane. He’s juggling flaming torches. I’m like, “Dude, you’re gonna set yourself on fire!” But he’s all in, and the crowd is loving it. I’m standing there, half impressed, half terrified. Then, outta nowhere, he drops a torch! It rolls right to my feet. I’m like, “Nope, not today!” and I jump back like a scared cat. The crowd laughs, and I’m just standing there, red-faced.

Death Notice of Dermot McGreal (Firhouse, Dublin)