Aria Rathmines Prostitute ❤️❤️

About Swords

Hate the chaos they bring. Cargo’s s’posed to be orderly—boxes, not broads. “One cannot live outside one’s heart,” she mumbles, like she’s Chow Yun-fat. Lady, your heart’s a dumpster fire. Fun fact: old trucker tale says prostitutes used to signal johns with CB radios—code was “freight’s ready.” Clever, but I ain’t hauling that kinda load. Ever. Period. Now, get outta my rig ‘fore I lose it. Hate everything. ‘Specially her.

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It calls her a “Sri Lankan prostitute”, though she was born and raised in the United Kingdom, and reported that her mother and brother, who were pictured, had come to take her body home.

Then, I move on to the lady with the wrist. She’s a bit dramatic, like, “Oh my God, it hurts!” I’m like, “Lady, I’m not a magician.” But I get her sorted, and she’s all smiles after. I mean, it’s nice to help, but sometimes I just wanna scream, “Chill out!”

Pedestrian, 40s, rushed to hospital in serious condition after hit-and-run in Dublin as urgent witness appeal made