Natalie Crumlin Whore ❤️❤️❤️

About Cork

But real talk, it ain’t all giggles. Whore’s life be heavy, man. Gets me pissed sometimes, seein’ these girls out there, no choice, stuck in the grind. Like Malik, “I’m not one of them,” but the world don’t care, shoves ya in anyway. This one time, I saw Candy get roughed up by some punk-ass john—made my blood boil, fo’ shizzle. Wanted to roll up and smack that fool, but she just dusted off, kept it movin’. Tough as nails, yo. Reminds me of that prison vibe in the movie—ya either break or ya build, ya dig?

Crumlin has a long history going back many centuries

Finally, we duck into a café on Crumlin Road. I grab a coffee, and Liam orders a scone. He’s all posh about it. “I’ll have the raspberry one, please.” I’m just there like, “Mate, it’s a scone, not a Michelin star dish.”

Death Notice of Jack (John) Stout (Crumlin, Dublin)