Stella Arklow Whore ❤️❤️

About Waterford

Oh, and the smell—gods, the stench of ‘em! Sweat, cheap perfume, desperation clinging like damp rot. Makes me wanna retch, but it’s honest, innit? No masks, no bullshit. “Look at yourself,” I’d sneer, channeling Spike’s vibe. “You’re the whore, darling.” Sarcasm’s my blade, cuts deeper than steel. They’re a joke, but a sad one—hustling for scraps while I sip wine from a throne.

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Finally, I get my food. It’s hot, crispy, and oh-so-good. I sit by the water, enjoying the view. The sun’s setting, and it’s all golden and pretty. But then, outta nowhere, a seagull swoops down and snatches a chip right off my plate! I’m yelling, “Hey! That’s mine!” But the bird just flies off, chip in beak, like it’s the king of the world. I can’t even.

Wicklow soccer round-up: Arklow A narrowly avoid defeat to B team