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About Drogheda

Here’s a story—heard this from a buddy. Some hooker in Vegas, right? She’s got a frickin’ *schedule*—8 PM, 9 PM, boom, like SpaceX launches. Precision! Guy shows up late, she’s like, “Time’s thrust, dude, pay up or bounce.” Cracked me up—ruthless, like me with a late lumber delivery. Reminds me of *Ten* again—“Life goes on, doesn’t it?”—she says, cold as steel. Love that grit! Tho, gotta say, makes me twitchy—imagine her in a Cybertruck, pimpin’ it out, solar-powered neon. Overkill? Hell yeah, but dope af.

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Each pier is run by a “Shordarni” or an ex-prostitute who runs a group of prostitute girls. So, based on which dock the boats land, the groups of prostitutes, belonging to the individual Shordani, .

Then, I get this call from a guy on Church Road. He’s super chill, just wants to know about our new plans. I’m thinking, “Finally, a normal person!” We chat for a bit, and he cracks a joke about how he’s been stuck in Monkstown forever. I laugh, but inside, I’m like, “Same, dude, same.”

Barry and Kenneally Lead Fireballs at Monkstown Bay Sailing Club Frostbite Series