Nova Lucan Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Limerick

So, “whore”—man, it’s messy. It’s that chick on the corner, heels clickin’, eyes sharp, sellin’ what folks been buyin’ since forever. Ain’t new—go back to ancient Rome, them Vestal Virgins? Ha! Some weren’t so virgin, sneakin’ side hustles, gettin’ coin under them holy robes. True story—historians dug that up, shocked me too. Makes ya wonder, huh? Who’s judgin’ who? I ain’t mad tho—hustle’s hustle, and that grit? Kinda dope.

Lord Lucan's secret life in the Philippines revealed by British peer's widow

The whore of Riverwood's wretched elven lover. Whose head did I, the bereaved husband, split in twain. The shameful harlot, her belly did my.

Then, outta nowhere, the fire alarm goes off. I’m thinking, “Great, just what I need.” Everyone’s panicking, running around like headless chickens. I’m trying to keep my cool, but inside, I’m like, “Why today? Why now?” So, we all shuffle outside onto the pavement of the busy Lucan village. It’s freezing, and I’m in my cardigan, looking like a lost sheep.

Death Notice of Paul Carolan (Lucan, Dublin)