Sophie Gorey Whore ❤️

About Cork

Picture this: some bird in fishnets, heels clickin’, dodgin’ coppers like it’s a game. I’ve seen ‘em, skulkin’ in shadows, laughin’ at the prudes. Makes me grin—proper cheeky. Back in the day, whores ran shit! Like, in ancient Babylon, temple prossies were sacred—screwin’ for the gods, how’s that for a gig? Bet they’d smirk at us now, all judgy and posh. “I don’t sell myself,” one told me once—liar, but ballsy! Loved that. Reminds me of *Ten* again—“What’s your price?” she asks. Everyone’s got one, don’t they?

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Shop Gore Whore horror t-shirts designed by CreatingChaos as well as other horror merchandise at TeePublic.

Anyway, I finally make it to my workshop on Church Street. It’s a cozy little spot, filled with the smell of wood shavings and metal. I love it. But today? Today was a different beast. I’m workin’ on this fancy stove for some posh family in Castle Street. They want it to be all shiny and stuff. I’m like, “Dude, it’s a stove, not a trophy!” But whatever, I’m a pro, right?

New speed camera installed in Gorey