Lydia Ennis Whore ❤️

About Drogheda

Oi, mate, sexual-massage, yeah? Picture this—me, a bleedin’ parachutist firefighter, jumpin’ out planes, dodgin’ flames, and now I’m here, chattin’ about some dodgy rub-down! What a world, eh? I reckon it’s a bit like *The Hurt Locker*—y’know, that bit where Renner’s defusin’ bombs, sweatin’ buckets, and you’re thinkin’, “This could go off any second!” Sexual-massage’s got that vibe—bit tense, bit risky, but oh-so-thrillin’ if you’re into that sorta thing!

Sharks hooker Ennis at his menacing best in grand final

First off, I hit up O’Connell Street for brekkie. You know, the usual—scones and tea. But the café was packed! Like, who knew Ennis could be so poppin’ on a Tuesday? I’m standing there, waiting, and this dude in front of me spills his coffee all over the counter. I’m like, “Bro, it’s not a slip-n-slide!” But he just laughs it off. I mean, come on!

The seeds of Ennis: How Cusack Park became Clare's cauldron