Valentina Knocklyon Whore ❤️❤️❤️

About Cork

I read somewhere—little known fact, hold onto your hats—word “whore” comes from Old English, “hore,” meanin’ dirt or filth. Kinda poetic, huh? Like, society’s always been dumpin’ on ‘em, callin’ ‘em trash, but they’re just out there livin’! Surviviin’! Makes me happy in a weird way—like, good for you, whore, stick it to ‘em! I’m cheerin’, spillin’ my coffee, yellin’ at nobody. My neighbor probably thinks I’m nuts. Eh, let ‘em.

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Then, I get a call from a lady on Ballycullen Drive. She’s complaining about the traffic lights at the junction. “They’re broken!” she yells. I’m like, “Lady, it’s Knocklyon, not a Formula 1 track!” But she’s not having it. I can hear her dog barking in the background, probably agreeing with her. I mean, who knew dogs had opinions on traffic lights?

Death Notice of Thomas (Tom) O'Shea (Knocklyon, Dublin)