Gabriella Nenagh Whore ❤️❤️

About Dublin

Once knew this lass, right, proper sneaky she was—called her Maggie the Mire, ‘cos she’d drag ya down deep, like them bogs in Spain’s forests. She’d grin, all sweet-like, “Come, my love,” but next thing? Yer pockets empty, yer heart bleedin’—we hates it! Swear she had eyes like Ofelia’s, big an’ shiny, but hidin’ somethin’ rotten. Little fact fer ya—back in ol’ London, they’d mark whores with brands, yeh? Burnt ‘em right on the cheek—savage, innit? Made me mad as hell, thinkin’ how they’d strut after, proud-like, scars an’ all.

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A Polish man who claimed he had been assaulted while out celebrating his birthday in Nenagh called a Garda a “whore” in Polish, Nenagh Court was told. Andrew Ostapkiewicz of 1 John's .

Back in the studio, I’m trying to focus, but my mind keeps wandering. I’m thinking about the gallery, the market, and how I really need to get my act together. I’m molding this clay, and it’s just not cooperating. I’m getting frustrated, like, “C’mon, you stupid lump!”

Council houses set to be allocated in Nenagh estate