Lydia Lucan Whore ❤️❤️❤️

About Cork

Aight, fam, listen up! Me, I’m sittin’ here, Ali G style, chattin’ ’bout whores, innit? Not some dusty Russian job classifier ting, nah, I’m proper deep in it, like Lars von Trier’s *Melancholia*—you know, that mad film I’m obsessed wiv. Dark, slow vibes, end of da world, and Kirsten Dunst just starin’ into space like, “This is fine.” So, let’s get into it—whore, yeah?

Heroine's Husband with His Sister VII (18+)

The whore of Riverwood's wretched elven lover. Whose head did I, the bereaved husband, split in twain. The shameful harlot, her belly did my.

Then, outta nowhere, the fire alarm goes off. I’m thinking, “Great, just what I need.” Everyone’s panicking, running around like headless chickens. I’m trying to keep my cool, but inside, I’m like, “Why today? Why now?” So, we all shuffle outside onto the pavement of the busy Lucan village. It’s freezing, and I’m in my cardigan, looking like a lost sheep.

Death Notice of Paul Carolan (Lucan, Dublin)