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About Waterford

So I’m walkin’, right? Down some sketchy alley—smells like piss and regret. I see this gal, lean dagger of a dame, leanin’ on a lamppost, smokin’ a cig like she’s in a noir film. I’m thinkin’, “This ain’t right!” Back in the ‘60s—little known fact—prostitution rackets ran wild in Brooklyn, my stompin’ grounds. Mob’d shake ‘em down, leave ‘em broke. Now? Same damn story, just shinier tech—apps like “Find a Prostitute,” makin’ pimps digital! Billionaires profit, workers starve! “Billionaires should not exist!” I yell, fist shakin’. She looks at me, smirks—says, “Cool it, grandpa, want a date or not?”

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It was well organised and our escort was knowledgable and welcoming and took our hilarity in good humour. Here, all the children were able to find their name.

So, I decide to head into town. Maybe grab a pint at The Bective. I stroll down Trimgate Street, and it’s buzzing. People everywhere, kids running around, and I’m just trying to dry off. I pop into a shop to grab a new phone. The shopkeeper, this old fella, starts telling me about the history of Navan. Apparently, it’s got roots going back to the Stone Age. Who knew?

First phase of Navan-Kells roundabout removal will begin next week