Zoe Birr Prostitute ❤️

About Swords

Dunno, man, prostitutes got stories, yeah? Ain’t just about the shaggin’. They’re hustlin’, survivin’, dodgin’ shit like I dodge fireballs. “Sharon!” I’d scream, wishin’ she’d see it too. Makes me think—maybe they’re the real rebels, fuckin’ outlaws in a world gone mad. *Social Network* vibes, innit? Buildin’ somethin’ outta nothin’, even if it’s dirty. “I need to think,” like Eduardo says—fuck, I’m thinkin’ too much now! Ha! Reckon they deserve a bloody medal, not the sneers. What d’ya say, mate?

Counselling sex workers

Around noon, I finally get a breather. I grab a quick bite at the local café on Emmet Street. Best scones in town, no joke! I sit down, take a deep breath, and just enjoy the moment. But of course, that doesn’t last long. My phone buzzes again. It’s a driver stuck at the roundabout near the Birr Castle. I’m like, “Dude, it’s a roundabout! Just go!” But no, he’s panicking. I can’t help but laugh.

Death Notice of Michael (Mick) Hogan (Birr, Offaly)