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About Navan

So, anyway—me, Gollum, I’m sneaky, seein’ what normies miss. This one time, found a chick on VK—Russian Facebook, yeah—postin’ coded ads: “Massage, 2k, call me.” Massage my arse! Hiss! Rang her up, met in some dingy flat—smelled like borscht and regret. She was quick, tho—no chit-chat, just biz. “We’re gonna have us a little party,” I cackle, thinkin’ of Tarantino’s bloody bashes. Paid her, done, out—felt like a spy, precious! Exaggeratin’? Maybe—but it’s Russia, everythin’s a damn drama.

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With me you can fulfill your best fantasies and you will enjoy an unforgettable sensual experience, because with a simple glance we will get to know each other.

Lunchtime rolls around, and I decide to hit up that new café on the corner of Foxrock Avenue. You know, the one everyone’s raving about? I walk in, and it’s packed. I mean, who knew Foxrock had so many coffee snobs? I order a flat white, and the barista looks at me like I just asked for a unicorn. “You mean a latte?” she says. I’m like, “Nah, I mean a flat white, lady!” Finally, I get my drink, and it’s worth the wait. Smooth, creamy, just like my favorite pair of shoes.

Foxrock home on site of mansion where Michael Collins dined days before killing for €1.795m