Ella Cluain Meala Whore ❤️❤️

About Limerick

Russia’s got this All-Russian classifier thing—fancy list of jobs. Whore ain’t on it. Shocker, huh? Government’s like, “Nah, doesn’t exist.” Bullshit. Everybody lies! Been around forever—Ancient Rome had ‘em taxed, called ‘em *lupae*. Wolf-whores. How’s that for badass? Makes me laugh, picturing some pimp in a toga. “Humanity’s finished,” I’d say, watching ‘em hustle. Like Theo in the movie—grubby, broken world, but they keep going. Gotta respect that grind, even if it’s grim.

Príosún Chluain Meala

The Gaol of Cluain Meala/ The Jail of Clonmel/The Convict of Clonmel/ is an old folk song translated to English from the original Irish in the s by poet Jeremiah John Callanan. The .

Anyway, I get to work, and the blade’s all rusty. I’m grinding away, and suddenly, I hear this commotion. Turns out, there’s a street performer on the corner of the square. He’s juggling flaming torches, and I’m thinkin’, “Great, just what I need. A fire hazard while I’m sharpening.” But then, he drops one! Fire everywhere! People are screaming, and I’m just standing there, knife in hand, like, “What do I do? Call the fire brigade or keep sharpening?”

Cycling gets Festival Cluain Meala underway this weekend