Meet Ciaron Dodd. Just don’t hire him.
He’s the £650-a-night hooker with East 17 eyebrows, powder blue braces and a face straight from the bottom of a poppers bong (once you pop you just can’t stop!) who just wants to get his grotty little mug in the papers.
Selling his story to the Sun, whose morals are up there with Mother Fucking Theresa in her Oliver Peoples sunglasses, Ciaron Dodd has shared stories of coke-fuelled orgies, nights out at the theatre, chocolate, flowers and even more chocolate when being entertained by Paul Flowers, the man from The Co-Op who dared to spend his own money doing fun things that are nobody’s business but his own. The fact that he’s also a man of God is just a little bit of serendipity. You know, just for us.
‘I knew what he did for a living and couldn’t believe how debauched he was,’ said Ciaron, who clearly didn’t get the Some Bank Chiefs Are Pigs, Get Over It! campaign brochure through his letterbox.
Mr Dodd, a ‘part-time model’ – we’ll be the judge, etc. – met Paul Flowers through Manchester Lads, a site that specializes in matchstalk men and matchstalk cats and cunts.
‘Paul enjoyed my company too,’ admitted Ciaron, eyes glistening at the thought of how many more star tattoos he’ll now be able to afford.
‘He’d like to spend hours drinking, talking and taking drugs. He would raise his glass and say, “To good health darling” before we had a drink.’
And John Lewis thought they had the monopoly on our hearts…
Would you pay £650 for this ratty prostitute who can't even keep his potty mouth shut?,