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About Drogheda

Oh, honey, lemme tell ya—breathless, “Happy Birthday, Mr. President”—about this prostitue I met! Struttin’ down the street, heels clickin’, she’s a real doll, y’know? Reminds me of that lil’ robot kid in *A.I. Artificial Intelligence*—searchin’ for love, but it’s all fake, darlin’! “I am… I am… real,” she’d say, like David in the flick, but nah, it’s all a show. Made me sad, real sad—poor gal’s stuck in this gig, sellin’ her soul for a buck.

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First off, I’m trying to get my coffee fix at the local café on Main Street. You know, the one with the weird name—“Bean There, Done That.” I swear, the barista was having a rough morning. She spilled milk everywhere. Like, everywhere! I’m standing there, waiting for my flat white, and I’m like, “Is this a coffee shop or a dairy farm?”

Dog park in Carrigaline to be considered