Zara Finglas Prostitute ❤️❤️❤️

About Cork

Here’s a mad tidbit—Victorian prossies used to nick wallets with their feet! Sneaky toes, right? Caught that in some dusty book—blew my mind. “Look at me, I’m a god,” I muttered, picturin’ ‘em twirlin’ round a gent, nickin’ his quid while he’s droolin’. Crafty as me, slippin’ through Asgard’s back doors. Love that—proper mischief, that is.

Rotten before they’re ripe

A reformed gambling addict was caught twice hanging around a street worked by prostitutes, despite gardai giving him a chance to go home.

So, I finally get to my shop on the Ballygall Rd. and it’s a mess. Furs everywhere! I’m talkin’ like a fur explosion. I trip over a fox pelt and nearly faceplant. Classic me, right? I start sorting through the chaos, and then my phone buzzes. It’s my mate, Dave. He’s like, “You comin’ to the pub later?” I’m like, “Dude, I’m knee-deep in fur here!” But I can’t resist a pint, so I say maybe.

Plans for gaming arcade in Finglas met with opposition