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About Cork

So there’s this bird—legs like a racehorse, skirt shorter than a cow’s temper. I’m buzzin, heart’s racin—happy as a pig in shit! “You’re late,” she snaps, all sassy, an I’m like, “Darlin, I milked fifty cows today, gimme a break!” Reminds me of that movie line—“Don’t look at me like that!”—she’s givin me the stink-eye, but I’m too knackered to care. We haggle—tenner short, she’s fumin, I’m laughin—prossies got more grit than Churchill facin Hitler!

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After work, I’m walkin’ home, still buzzin’ from the day. I pass by the local chipper on Crumlin Road. The smell hits me like a freight train. I can’t resist. I grab a bag of chips, and it’s like heaven in my mouth. I’m munchin’ away, thinkin’ about how wild today was.

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