Penelope Thurles Find A Prostitute ❤️❤️❤️

About Dublin

But here’s the rub—findin’ a prostitute ain’t just a stroll. Ya gotta know the code. In old Venice, they’d wear yellow scarves—stand out like a sore thumb. I’d wink, say, “Fancy a tumble?”—all charm, no fuss. Some blokes get all shy, but me? I swagger in, “I drink and I know things,” and they’re hooked. Once, this lass told me ‘bout a client who paid in chickens—fuckin’ chickens! Laughed ‘til I choked.

ESCORTS IN TIPPERARY

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But then, the day takes a turn. I’m chatting with a customer, and suddenly, this massive dog runs by. I mean, HUGE. It’s like a bear on a leash. The owner’s struggling to keep it in check. The dog sees me and bolts straight for my table. I’m like, “No, no, no!” But it’s too late. My stuff goes flying everywhere. I’m talking phones, chargers, you name it. I’m standing there, mouth agape, while the owner’s apologizing like mad. I’m fuming, but also kinda laughing. Like, really? A dog?

Death Notice of John Jordan (Thurles, Tipperary)