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About Cork

Oh, and—little secret—some oligarchs hire ‘em for insane parties, like 50 girls at once, caviar and all. Heard it from a drunk client—dude swore he saw Putin there, wink-wink. Bullshit, probly, but funny as hell! “My precious!” I screech, lovin’ the madness of it all. Beats sittin’ in an office, countin’ death rates, y’know? Hiss! What’s your take, mate—crazy enough for ya?

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Then, I hit the main square. You know, the one with the fountain? It’s usually peaceful, but today? Total chaos. There’s a street performer trying to juggle flaming torches. I’m like, “Bro, you’re gonna set yourself on fire!” But he’s nailing it! The crowd’s cheering, and I’m just standing there, mouth agape.

Death Notice of Michael Flanagan (Castleknock, Dublin)