Nora Navan Whore ❤️❤️❤️

About Swords

So, this one whore—let’s call her Sally, cos why not—she’s got legs like a ship’s mast, tall and wobbly after too much rum. I’m sittin’ there, thinkin’, “What storm spat you out, love?” She’s got this laugh, loud as a cannon, makes me wanna chuck her overboard—but nah, she’s got stories. Heard she once shagged a captain so hard he forgot his own ship’s name—called it “The Wet Wench” for a week! Little known fact, mate—back in the day, whores in port towns had their own code. Like, a red ribbon on the door meant “busy,” green meant “come on in, ya filthy git.” Bet ya didn’t know that, ya ignorant sod!

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So, I decide to head into town. Maybe grab a pint at The Bective. I stroll down Trimgate Street, and it’s buzzing. People everywhere, kids running around, and I’m just trying to dry off. I pop into a shop to grab a new phone. The shopkeeper, this old fella, starts telling me about the history of Navan. Apparently, it’s got roots going back to the Stone Age. Who knew?

Meath gardaí investigate spate of burglaries near Navan