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About Cork

So, one night, I’m done haulin’ hay—friggin’ exhaustin’, man! Hands all gritty, back achin’ like I wrestled a pig. I think, “Marge’d kill me, but I’m curious!” D’oh! Ain’t lookin’ for love, just a yarn to spin. I roll by this dive bar—neon sign flickerin’ like it’s drunk too. See this gal, all fishnets and attitude, leanin’ on a lamppost. “Every family’s got its mysteries,” I mutter, quotin’ Sarah Polley—ha! She’s smokin’ a cig, givin’ me the eye. I’m like, “Homer, don’t be a dope!”

Ireland’s sex trade went online years ago. So what are main-street ‘massage parlours’ for?

Sep 7,  · It's midnight on Dublin's Baggot Street and a young woman steps out of the shadows. Low-cut top, tight jeans and rolls of jet black hair pulled tight, she carries with her a .

After that, I decide to stroll down to Terenure. I love that area. So chill. But then, outta nowhere, it starts to rain. Like, proper Irish rain. I’m soaked in seconds. I’m cursing the weather gods, like, “Really? You had to do me like this?” I duck into a pub on the corner of Terenure Road. It’s cozy, smells like chips and regret. Perfect.

Gardai seize 29 cars worth up to €600,000 from South Dublin business