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About Cork

So, I’m stalkin these grimy alleys, heels clickin, lookin for a tart. Not some high-class escort, nah—too posh, too fake. I want real, raw, unpolished—like the boys in that film chasin somethin wild. Found this one bird, right, all lipstick smears and tired eyes. “How much, love?” I sneer, cos I ain’t here for chit-chat. She mumbles a price, I scoff—bloody cheek! Made me angry, that did—tryin to fleece me like I’m some soft twit. “I choose violence,” I think, but nah, I just haggle her down.

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But then, I spot my nemesis, Fiona from the bakery down the road. She’s got this smug look on her face, like she’s just won the lottery. I’m like, “Oh no, not today!” I can’t let her see me having fun. So, I grab Sean, and we duck into a pub on the corner of the street.

Academy Roundup | May 3/4