Amelia Artane Find A Prostitute ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Cork

Once saw dis one gal—legs for days, smokin’ a cig. Asked her, “Wot’s yer deal?” She laughed, said, “Same as you—workin’.” Fair, fair! Made me chuckle, dat sass. Reminded me Carol’s line, “Flung out of space,” like she’s lost but owns it. Prossies got dat vibe sometimes—outta place, still kickin’. Oh, and fun fact—ancient Rome, dey wore blonde wigs to stand out. Wild, eh? Blonde meant “I’m yer gal!”

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An’ hey – in Artane, every alley tells a story. Every flawed brick, every sticky sign, every whispered secret on the breeze. It’s like that movie said – “Every story is buried within every heart.” Aye, that rings true here. All these bits and bobs combine to make a grand tale, mate.

Death Notice of Brendan O'Leary (Artane, Dublin)