The madam, Ms Aurora Murphy, opened the local celebrity bordello door on Cloontyprocklis Street, Thurles, to find a rather well-dressed man, aged possibly in his early forties, standing on the granite doorstep, outside.
“May I help you sir?” asked Ms Aurora.
“I would like to see Ms Felicity Ryan”, this well-dressed caller replied.
As locals and regular visitors to Cloontyprocklis Street will be aware, Ms Aurora Murphy, as was her usual habit, first slowly scanned twice both sides of the Cul de Sac, anticipating a possible raid from the Criminal Assets Bureau (CAB), before, with some hesitation, she informed the visitor in low tones, “Sir, do be aware that Ms Felicity is one of our more expensive commodities. Perhaps you would prefer something a little cheaper perhaps”
“No, I would like to see Ms Felicity Ryan,” he replied.
Just then Felicity appeared from behind a screen and announced to the man that, because of her fear of Boris Johnston’s attitude with regards to next October’s Brexit deal, she accepted only Euro currency in advance; €5,000 per visit, including value added tax (VAT).
Without hesitation, the man counted out five thousand Euro and gave it to Ms Felicity, before accompanying her upstairs.
One hour later he was gone, but not for long. The following evening, this same well-dressed man was back, and once more demanding to visit with Ms Felicity Ryan.
The Madam, Ms Aurora Murphy, explained that no one had ever come back two nights in a row to visit Ms Felicity Ryan, for no other reason other than she was so expensive, and any hope of a discount would not even be remotely entertained. The price would remain and stand firmly at €5,000 Euro per visit, including VAT.
Again, the man, without hesitation, pulled out 10 crisp notes in denominations of €500, and handed them to Ms Felicity Ryan, before ascending the stairs. One hour later a smiling client had again departed, but again not for long.
The following evening the man was surprisingly back yet again. Every one of the girls employed at the house were astounded that he had come back for a third consecutive night. They arrived at the conclusion that he probably was either a Member of the European Parliament (MEP); a Teachta Dála (TD) or a Banker; with some even suggesting that he could be an Irish Water executive. Once again, without a word, he paid Ms Felicity in full and in advance, before again ascending the carpeted staircase.
Later, just before he left and as he enjoyed a quick snort of cocaine through a rolled €50 Euro note; Ms Felicity Ryan decided to indirectly question the man, “No one has ever been with me three nights in a row”, she smiled, “Where do you hail from may I ask?”
” I’m from Marino, Co. Dublin”, the man replied.
“Really”, said Ms Felicity, her eyebrows raised, “What a coincidence, I believe I have a family member whom I haven’t visited recently, still living in Marino, Co. Dublin”.
“Sure, I know that”, the well-dressed man replied, “I am a solicitor and handle the affairs of your now deceased unmarried sister. It was she in fact, before her death, who asked me to deliver your €15,000 inheritance, preferably in person.”
The Moral of This Story:
It is not just death and taxes that remain a certainty in one’s lifetime, but also the possibility of being screwed by a Solicitor.
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