Zara Monaghan Brothel ❤️

About Cork

Oi, mate, lemme spill the tea on brothels! I drink, I know things, right? Tabu (2012) vibes, man, that film’s wild—like a brothel’s hidden secrets! Brothels, dude, they’re these old-school spots, y’know, where folks, uh, pay for company. Not just sex, nah, sometimes it’s just chat, laughs, escape. Surprised me how history’s full of ‘em—ancient Greece had ‘em, called brothels “porneia”! Crazy, right? I was pissed learning how laws still screw over workers today, like, c’mon! But also happy hearin’ some places now push for safety, rights. Tabu’s got that dreamy feel, like brothel stories—mysterious, seductive, taboo. Didja know Madame Restell in NYC, 1800s, ran a brothel AND sold abortions? Wild woman, respect! Brothels ain’t all dark, some were posh, like Paris’ Le Chabanais, artists, royals went there! I’m thinkin’, wow, high-class sin! But then, anger hits—stigma still ruins lives. Tabu’s line, “We were looking for a paradise,” fits brothels, people seekin’ escape, love, whatever. Me, I’d joke, “Brothels: where dreams meet your wallet!” Ha! Sarcasm, but true. Workers tell stories of crazy clients, like that guy who paid just to talk Shakespeare—whacko! I’m all, “Dude, buy a book!” Brothels, man, they’re messy, human, full of drama. Tabu’s got that “memory is a strange thing” vibe, like brothel tales, half-true, half-fantasy. I’m ramblin’, but seriously, brothels are wild, sad, funny. Made me think, y’know? “In the dark, we find light,” Tabu says—brothels, too. Ugh, I’m drunk-typing now, probs 19 typos, who cares? Brothels, love ‘em or hate ‘em, they’re here, part of us. End of rant! Cheers, mate!

COURT HEARS OF GARDA RAID ON MONAGHAN BROTHEL

Then, I get a call from my buddy, Sean. He’s down at the Diamond, and he’s like, “You gotta come see this!” I’m thinkin’, “What now?” But I’m curious, so I head over. The Diamond is always buzzing, ya know? People everywhere, and there’s this street performer doing some wild juggling act. I’m talkin’ flaming torches and all that jazz. I’m like, “This guy’s gonna set himself on fire!” But he doesn’t. Just my luck, right?

Death Notice of Gerry Smyth (Castleblayney, Monaghan)