Mila Lucan Brothel ❤️❤️

About Navan

But it pisses me off too—some sleazy pimp actin’ like he’s king, beatin’ down the girls. “I’m a hero,” he’d smirk, like those killers in the flick sayin’, “I’m a winner.” Bullshit! Exploitation ain’t heroic, it’s gutless. Still, I get it—greed’s a drug, keeps the wheel spinnin’. Clients don’t care, they’re droolin’ for a fix, throwin’ cash like confetti.

Through the Lucan Glass

I get to the café, and it’s packed. Everyone’s buzzing about the fire alarm. I’m like, “Guys, it was nothing!” But they’re all hyped up, sharing their own wild stories. I grab a coffee—thank God for caffeine—and join in. We’re talking about everything from the best spots in Lucan to grab a pint to the weirdest books we’ve ever read.

Death Notice of John (Jack) Collins (Lucan, Dublin)