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About Navan

Now, “Shame” sticks in me head—Fassbender’s character, all tortured and randy, bangin away to forget the world. “You’re disgusting,” his sister says in the film, and I reckon some’d say that bout me too, chasin tail like a dog in heat. But bollocks to em—life’s short, innit? I’m no saint, just a bloke wantin a rumble. Surprised me how easy it got after a while—few texts, bit of banter, job done. Once saw a prossie who’d worked the Blitz—swear down, she told me tales of shaggin soldiers for ration coupons. History in her knickers, that one!

Escorts in Foxrock

Back at the shop, I’m feelin’ good, right? But then, the door swings open, and in walks Mr. Thompson. He’s the kinda guy who thinks he’s the king of Foxrock. “I need my shoes fixed, and I need ‘em now!” he barks. I’m like, “Dude, chill. I’m not a magician.” But I take his shoes anyway, ‘cause I can’t afford to lose a customer.

Death Notice of Edward WALLACE (Foxrock, Dublin)