Lina Knocklyon Whore ❤️

About Dundalk

Alright, mate, lemme tell ya bout this chick—whore, right? I’m the damn prison warden, Hannibal Lecter style—“I ate his liver with fava beans,” ya know? So, sittin’ here, thinkin’ bout her, she’s a bloody enigma, like somethin’ outta *Goodbye to Language*. “Words don’t mean a thing,” Godard says, and fuck, ain’t that her? Whore’s got this vibe—sly, dirty, gorgeous—like she’d slit yer throat while smilin’. Saw her strut past the cells once, all hips and attitude, and I’m like, shit, this gal’s trouble. Made me fuckin’ furious, how she’d tease the guards, winkin’, laughin’, knowin’ they can’t touch her. Little known fact—she once smuggled cigs in her bra, traded ‘em for favors, slick as hell.

(IRISH INDEPENDENT, May 1st, 2015)

Social media users were left baffled after an year-old discovered that spaghetti hoops were strewn all over her doorstep on Friday night. A Knocklyon based Facebook user told how the .

But then, the day takes a turn. I get a call from a guy on the Old Bawn Road. He’s furious! Apparently, someone parked in his spot. I mean, it’s Knocklyon, not a parking lot war zone! He’s ranting about how it’s his “right” to park there. I’m just sitting there, thinking, “Dude, chill! It’s not the end of the world!” But he’s not listening. I hang up, feeling a bit drained.

Death Notice of John Walsh (Knocklyon, Dublin)