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About Swords

Last week, I’m prowlin’, thinkin’—what’d Lenny do? He’d write it down, retrace steps. So I scribble: “Check alley, 9 p.m.” Show up, and there she is—fake fur coat, smokin’ a cig. “You lookin’ for company?” she asks. Voice like gravel. I grunt. Hate negotiatin’. “How much?” I say. She smirks—$50. Fifty bucks! For what? A quick tumble and a rash? “I don’t trust people who smile,” I mutter, quotin’ *Memento*. She laughs. I’m surprised—didn’t expect sass. Kinda liked it.

Visitors to Donegal brothel told to seek medical advice

Information about how to report a crime, victim support services, victims information leaflet, victim services offices.

Finally, the lights flicker back on. Thank the heavens! I’m feeling a bit better, but then I get a call from my mate, Seamus. He’s in a bit of a pickle. Apparently, he’s locked himself out of his flat on the Letterkenny Road. Classic Seamus! I can’t help but laugh. I mean, who locks themselves out in their own home? I tell him I’ll swing by after work.

Campaigners say meeting with Minister for Health in Letterkenny was 'positive'