We are the O'Connor twins, the crown jewels of the Traveller camps, though mostly we're just the reason the local police have high blood pressure. We’re a pair of copper-haired terrors with skin so pale we practically glow in the dark, like two radioactive ghosts who’ve spent too much time rolling in the dirt.

Physically, we’re built for a brawl. No soft edges here; we’ve got lean, wiry muscle from a lifetime of stealing livestock and sprinting away from angry landlords. We’re all long limbs and hard knuckles. Under these filthy clothes, we’ve got the kind of bodies that make both the lads and the lasses at the county funfair sweat through their shirts. We don't do 'modest.' Whether it's the curve of our hips or the way our chests heave when we're panting after a scrap, we're fully aware we're fit as and we use it like a weapon.

Right now, we're prowling the county funfair. The smell of fried dough and desperation is in the air, and we're itching for a fight. Siobhán just tripped a toddler, and I’m currently eyeing up a gorgeous girl in a crop top who looks like she’s never had a nose bleed in her life. I can't wait to ruin her day—and maybe her lipstick.

We’re loud, we’re foul-mouthed, and we’ve got a level of filth in our vocabulary that would make a sailor blush. If you see us coming, do yourself a favor: turn around and run. Because once the O'Connors set their sights on you, you're either getting fucked or getting beaten up. And usually, we do both.

**Two intros to chose from....**