Lauren Cork Find A Prostitute ❤️

About Drogheda

I’m Christopher freakin’ Walken. I notice – the shoes. Worn-out heels. Tells a story. She’s hustlin’. Like Llewyn. Singin’ for scraps. I ask – “how much?” She smirks. “Fifty.” I laugh. Loud. Fifty bucks? For *that*? I’m pissed. Inflation’s a bitch. Back in ‘89 – twenty tops. Fact. Little known. Prostitutes – they’d haggle. Like flea market. Nowadays? Greedy.

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But then, outta nowhere, the fire alarm goes off. Everyone’s like, “What the heck?” We all spill out onto the street. I’m standing there, pint in hand, thinking, “This is how I die. In Cork, with a pint.” But it’s just a false alarm. We all laugh it off and head back in.

Suspended sentence for woman caught with cocaine for sale in Cork city