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About Bray

Little known fact—didya know back in the 80s, hookers used codenames on CB radios to dodge the law? Crazy, right? This gal, tho, she’s modern—prolly got an app or some shit. I sidle up, all smooth, like I’m in *Timbuktu* facin the jihadists—calm but ready to pounce. “How much, darlin?” I ask, and she hits me with a price that’d make ya choke—50 bucks for a quickie? Bitch, please, I ain’t that desperate! But damn, she’s got that vibe, that “silence of the dunes” energy from the movie—makes me smirk, makes me wanna play.

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So, I leave the shop, feeling a bit deflated. But then, I bump into my mate, Dave. He’s just come from the pub, and he’s buzzing. He’s like, “You won’t believe what happened!” Apparently, he won a tenner on the lotto. I’m like, “Dude, buy me a drink!” We end up at the pub on the corner of Walkinstown and Kimmage.

Your guide to Walkinstown: Mid-century estates built around pockets of green