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About Dublin

Now, imagine—this chick quotin lines, “In the name of the concierge!”—straight outta Grand Budapest, mixin biz with flair. Cracked me up, it did—humor in the hustle! Tho, gotta say, dodgy streets ain’t my jam—rather sip tea at the hotel, ya feel? Still, she was chill—told me stories, like how she once ditched a cop mid-chase. “Feet, my power is,” i joked, wavin my stubby legs.

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First off, I’m tryin’ to grab a coffee at that little café on the corner of Pearse Street. You know the one? The barista, bless her heart, spills half the milk all over the counter. I’m like, “Great, just what I needed.” But then she gives me this killer smile, and I’m like, “Okay, I forgive ya.” Coffee in hand, I’m feelin’ good.

Death Notice of Aidan (Ned) FENNESSY (Edenderry, Offaly)