Valentina Portlaoise Whore ❤️

About Dublin

Here’s a lil story—knew this gal once, called her Sugar, worked downtown. She’d laugh, sayin’, “Phil, I’m the queen of this dump!” Had this gap-tooth grin, smoked like a chimney—12 cigs a day, swear it. Made me happy, seein’ her sass, but damn, it broke my heart too. She’d quote movies, but twist ‘em—“I’m the king of the world!”—yellin’ it from a busted balcony. Total nutcase, loved her for it. Whore ain’t just a job, y’all—it’s a freakin’ saga.

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After that, I decided to stroll down Church Street. It’s such a vibe, man. The shops, the people, the whole scene. I popped into this little thrift store. Found the most ridiculous Hawaiian shirt. I mean, it was bright enough to blind someone! I had to get it. I thought, “This’ll be perfect for my next dive trip.” Spoiler alert: it wasn’t.

No new courthouse in Portlaoise despite site lying idle for five years