Layla Rathmines Whore ❤️❤️

About Navan

So, whores—where do I start? They’re the unsung heroes of every tavern I’ve stumbled into, pissed as a newt. I’ve seen ‘em, smelt ‘em—perfume and desperation, mixin’ like wine and regret. One time, in King’s Landing (or was it Dodge City?), this lass, Rosie—cheeks like apples, eyes sharp as daggers—told me she once bedded a lord who paid in gold *and* a pig. A pig! Can ya believe it? Laughed my arse off, spilt me drink. “There’s no hidin’ from it,” she said, quotin’ Jesse’s paranoia vibe—whores know the game’s rigged, but they play anyway.

Product of the Month: The Cuffed Beanie

I finally grab some grub at a spot on Lower Rathmines. The food’s decent, but the service? Ugh. I’m waiting forever. I’m thinking, “Is this a restaurant or a waiting room?” But when the food finally comes, it’s like heaven. I devour it like I haven’t eaten in days.

Girl (2) is hospitalised after pepper spray used by suspect during burglary in Rathmines, Dublin