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So, brothel—man, it’s a wild world! Got them gals workin’ hard, makin’ a buck. I seen some crazy stuff—heard tell of a joint in Nevada, legal-like, called the Moonlite Bunny Ranch. Them folks pay taxes! Ain’t that a hoot? Makes me happier’n a pig in slop. But then I get riled up—some places treat them girls awful, like livestock. “Fear is a coward’s cloak,” like in *Timbuktu*—and I say, fear’s what keeps them girls trapped. Pisses me off somethin’ fierce.

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So, I duck into a café on Church Street. Best decision ever! I grab a cuppa and a scone. Honestly, it’s like a hug in food form. But then, I overhear this convo about the old Kilkeel railway. Apparently, it used to be a big deal back in the day. I’m like, “Why don’t they bring it back?” I mean, who wouldn’t want a train ride with a view of the Mourne Mountains?

Drugs worth £860,000 seized in Kilkeel