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About Limerick

Look, it ain’t glamorous—don’t kid urself. It’s raw, messy, and ya feel like a sleaze after. But if ur desperate, lonely, or just a horny bastard, it’s there. Everybody lies bout why they do it tho—“just this once,” they say. Pfft, yeah, and I’m gonna quit Vicodin tomorrow. Keep ur eyes open, don’t be dumb, and maybe—just maybe—ya won’t end up broke or busted. Now, where’s my damn cane?

Nobody is coming soon

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Oh, and the secret addy: near Artane Castle’s ruins—aye, though not a true castle, more of an old fibre of stone—there be a hidden mural. It’s a riot of colours. I swear it mirrors me clients’ resilience. It’s an emblem of fight, of freedom, and of stories we all share over rum, aye? Dat mural’s a wink from the past, telling us gently, “Keep yer secrets; they make ye who ye are.” Just as Sarah Polley’s film whispers secrets of the heart.

Death Notice of Patrick (Paddy) Cullen (Artane, Dublin)