Anna Midleton Whore ❤️

About Cork

Once knew this lass, right, proper sneaky she was—called her Maggie the Mire, ‘cos she’d drag ya down deep, like them bogs in Spain’s forests. She’d grin, all sweet-like, “Come, my love,” but next thing? Yer pockets empty, yer heart bleedin’—we hates it! Swear she had eyes like Ofelia’s, big an’ shiny, but hidin’ somethin’ rotten. Little fact fer ya—back in ol’ London, they’d mark whores with brands, yeh? Burnt ‘em right on the cheek—savage, innit? Made me mad as hell, thinkin’ how they’d strut after, proud-like, scars an’ all.

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The other plotlines – frustrated young lovers, idiot young man duped into marrying a whore – these are boringly familiar. But the Whorehound-.

Then, we cruise down Church Lane. Beautiful street, right? But Jamie’s still clueless. They nearly take out a cyclist. I’m like, “Dude, you can’t just swerve like that! This ain’t Mario Kart!” I’m half-laughing, half-pulling my hair out.

East Cork's award-winning Cush to relocate to site of popular Midleton restaurant