Lucy Arklow Find A Prostitute ❤️❤️❤️

About Navan

Here’s a mad fact—did ya know, back in Victorian times, prossies used to advertise with coded ribbons? Red fer “I’m game,” blue fer “bit classy.” Mental, right? This one, tho, she don’t need ribbons—her swagger says it all. I’m half tempted to nick her style for meself, but nah, she’d clock that too. Anyway, we’re chattin, an I’m gettin proper into it—happy as a pig in muck. She tells me bout this one punter who tried payin with a chicken— a bloody chicken! I’m creasin, picturin it. “What’d ya do?” I ask. “Told him to cluck off,” she says. Genius.

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Anyway, I’m fuming, right? I’m walking down by the river, the Avoca, trying to calm down. It’s beautiful there, with the swans and all. But then I see this guy, just chilling on the bank, fishing. He’s got this massive grin, like he’s just won the lottery or something. I’m like, “Dude, what’s your secret?” He just shrugs and says, “It’s all about the patience, mate.” Patience? In Arklow? Yeah, right.

East Coast Samaritans Extend Heartfelt Thanks to The Old Ship Arklow for Their Ongoing Support