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About Drogheda

I reckon brothels are messy—emotional rollercoaster, ya dig? Guys stroll in, all cocky, but some leave broken. Surprised me, honestly—thought it’d be all laughs. Nope! One time, heard this tale—Victorian era, right? Gal named Rosie ran a joint, kept a pet parrot. Bird’d squawk dirty words at the johns—hilarious! “How do you live with yourself?” it’d screech, like in the movie. Cracked me up, ribbit!

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So, I’m hustling, and I pass by the Glanmire River. It’s usually so peaceful, but today? It was like a scene from a horror flick. The water was all murky and angry. I swear I saw a fish jump out, like it was trying to escape. I laughed, but then I thought, “What if it’s a sign?” Like, what if the fish are plotting against us?

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