Maeve Banbridge Brothel ❤️❤️

About Newcastle

Brothels, they’re old, man—ancient! Heard some roman dude ran one, made bank, called it “lupanar”—fancy, huh? Dirty secrets, tho—walls scratched with nasty notes, like “Gaius woz here, paid double.” History’s wild, makes ya giggle. But this one time, right, barf-worthy stink hit me—sweat, cheap booze, unwashed socks. Nearly puked, I did! “Stupid, fat hobbit!”—they don’t notice, too busy leerin’. Me, I see it all, sneaky Gollum eyes.

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A mother-of-three whose Banbridge home was labelled as a brothel while she was on holiday has spoken of her shock and disgust at the allegations.

Anyway, I’m feeling all happy and stuff, right? But then, I bump into my ex. Ugh, the worst! We start chatting, and it’s all awkward. I’m trying to keep it cool, but inside, I’m like, “Why are you here?!” We talk about the weather, the usual small talk. But then she mentions she’s dating someone new. Oof. That hit hard. I’m trying to act all chill, but inside, I’m screaming.

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