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About Navan

I hate the apps—Bumble, Hinge, whatever. Dudes flexin’ gym pics, chicks with filters. Like, what’s real anymore? Saw this stat once—70% of matches ghost. Hilarious, right? You’re chattin’, thinkin’ “she’s into me,” then poof—gone. “The earth is my mother,” Malick’s film says. These apps? They’re a swamp. Stinky, shallow, full of catfish. Met a guy once—swore he banged 50 gals off OkCupid. Bragged like it’s a medal. I’m like, “Cool, I split logs faster.”

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First stop, the corner of Thorncastle St. and the Strand. There’s this massive oak, like, the size of a small car. I’m all pumped, ready to give it a good look. But then, bam! A seagull swoops down and steals my sandwich right outta my hand! Like, seriously? Who knew seagulls were such thieves? I’m standing there, mouth agape, while this feathered bandit flies off with my lunch.

Man landed with €9,400 legal bill after being ordered to close Ringsend pizzeria