Lila Kildare Whore ❤️❤️

About Swords

So yeah, “whore” pisses me off, makes me laugh, whatever. It’s a word with guts—been kicked, spat on, still swims. “P. Sherman, 42 Wallaby Way, Sydney”—random, but I’d send all the sanctimonious pricks there to rot. I’m Cersei, I don’t mince words. Call it like I see it—whore’s just a hustle, and I respect the grind. Now sod off, I’m done. “I choose violence” if you argue!

Breached Protection Order

nineteenth and early twentieth centuries. Maria Luddy uncovers the extent of prostitution in the country and examines how Irish women came to work as prostitutes, their living.

But then, I get a call from my boss. He’s like, “Where’s that report?” And I’m like, “Uh, Wi-Fi issues?” He’s not having it. I’m sweating bullets. I rush back to the office, and guess what? The Wi-Fi is magically working again. I’m typing like a madman, trying to get everything done.

Death Notice of John Lynch (Sallins, Kildare)