Claire Arklow Brothel ❤️❤️❤️

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Oi mate, lemme tell ya bout brothels, yeah? Mumbled incoherence, “Sharon!” – they’re wild fuckin places, man! Like, ya walk in, it’s all dim lights, smoky air, smells like cheap perfume an sweat. Reminds me o’ that flick, *There Will Be Blood*, ya know? “I drink your milkshake!” – that’s what them girls do, suck ya dry, hah! Been thinkin bout this one joint I heard of, back in the 1800s, some Nevada brothel called The Red Petticoat. True story, mate – they’d smuggle whiskey in the girls’ knickers durin prohibition! Fuckin mental, right?

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Now I’m mad again. I decide to walk it off. I head down to the Arklow Bridge. It’s a cool spot, with all the boats and stuff. I’m standing there, looking at the water, and I see this couple taking selfies. They’re all lovey-dovey, and I’m like, “Get a room!” But then, I can’t help but smile. Love is in the air, even in Arklow.

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