It’s the host blunderful lime of the gear
Posted on | December 23, 2010 | 59 Comments
The comment spammers are getting personal.
I used to love reading your blog, but lately it’s been a little boring. I’ll still read it though =)
Aw, thanks. At least I think that was a comment spammer. Perhaps the fact her username linked to a site which had more cocks than the Dail is a giveaway.
What a year it’s been. With days and weeks and months and then here we are at the end of it worse off than we were at the start of it.
Yet this is not a time to gripe or moan or complain. Enough of that has been done. And it’s made precisely no difference. 2011 must be the year of planks with nails in them, bats (cricket/baseball, not blind flappy cunts), arson attacks and hilarious, cutting graffiti.
I’m going to take some days off now, I hope you and yours get everything you deserve. See, that works for good people and for cunts too.
Have a good one.
Tis the season
Posted on | December 22, 2010 | 84 Comments
I’m going to trudge my way into town later on to do my Christmas shoplifting. I’ve made a list and I’ve checked it twice.
Jimmy the Bollix – he is still distraught over the death of Leslie Nielsen so an Adam Sandler box set should make him feel worse.
Dirty Dave – a Blue Statos gift-pack.
Stinking Pete -two Blue Stratos gift-packs.
Lucky Luciano – nothing, the fucking cunt.
Ron – he’s looking for a new bat.
I thinking of getting myself something too. A little treat to reward myself for getting through this most trying of years. The inner-geek in me is thinking of products prefixed with ‘i’ but the chilled-by-the-weather, fucked up fireplace person is thinking of a trip to the Whiskey shop for something drinkable.
A bottle of this would do.
A snip at €1,500.00 inc VAT.
As I said, I’m off to do my Christmas shoplifting.
Is this what winter’s going to be like from now on?
Posted on | December 21, 2010 | 95 Comments
Snow might look pretty but the reality is that unless you’re the kind of cunt who wants to go fast down a mountain with two sticks attatched to your feet it’s fucking useless.
Snow should be banned from all urban areas at once. Those who believe in God might ask why it is he’s made it so difficult to get to the supermarket. If he really did love you he wouldn’t have made you fall over, crack your elbow and spend 13 hours in the emergency room without being seen.
Snow is for the countryside, for hills and mountains, and those who choose to live amidst such savagery have no cause for complaint. Those of us who choose to dwell in a once thriving metropolis deserve better. Why, when times were good, did we not install undersoil heating the length and breadth of the city? Snow can’t stick if the ground is 24C.
Short-term thinking once again and yet another reason why both FF and the Greens should not only be voted out of government but be executed as a warning to the designate adminstration that no similar lapses in judgement will be tolerated.
I am not dreaming of a white christmas. Not unless you mean a white russian christmas and even then they’re not exactly white but a more beige hue.
My Honda 50 doesn’t do well in the snow despite my exceptional ninjacat balance. The games of football via which I can vent my frustration and aggression are cancelled. It’s quite likely that I will go on a rampage around Clery’s with a 3-iron.
And there’s little sign of it stopping. Is this what it’s going to be like from now on? I hope not. No wonder the Finnish are world leaders in killing themselves.
It’s inhuman.
A Christmas bargain …
Posted on | December 20, 2010 | 23 Comments
… spotted in DID earlier on. Click for big.
The 12 cunts of Christmas
Posted on | December 20, 2010 | 53 Comments
Saturday night was weird around town. There was an atmosphere which wasn’t at all Christmassy. There was aggression. Lots and lots of aggression.
People sitting minding their own business in a pub being hassled by a thick-necked mouthbreather over a stool which was occupied. A lounge girl in a busy bar being harassed, verbally and physically, by drunken idiots as she tried to clean up the glass they had broken on the floor. Rugby fans, giddy from a win, knocking things and people flying by doing scrums in the middle of the bar.
At one stage on Saturday night I went to the bar to get some pints. There was a group of four lads who were banjaxed drunk, stomping their feet on the ground and, I suppose, trying to sing. The barman came over, told them to cut it out, and then served them their four Jaeger-bombs. Clearly they were meant to chug them together but one of them picked it up and glugged it down straight away. Except most of the drink missed his mouth and spilled down his front.
He didn’t even notice. A man beside me had the same expression as I did. “Silly cunt”, he said. And he was right. He could barely open his eyes and he’s being served Jaegermeister and Red Bull.
They were, I’m sure, a 12 pubs of Christmas group. What a stupid fucking idea that it is. For those who don’t know you go to 12 pubs and have a drink in each one. If I were a bar owner I wouldn’t let any of them in. I know times are tough and it’s the time of year to make money but what about your other customers who want to have a few pints and not be bothered by total cunts? Because, let’s face it, 12 drinks is enough to get anyone properly drunk and once you’re properly drunk anything can happen.
I love a good drink but I cannot stand the sloppy, aggressive drunkenness of Saturday night. When you have people starting their 12 pubs in the early afternoon there’s just no way they can be in decent shape late in the evening.
If it were up to me I’d fucking have them all glassed in the face. Maybe they’d learn then.
The Journal
Posted on | December 18, 2010 | 48 Comments
If you’re a young, aspiring journalist, maybe you might want to have a look at this.
What struck me though, was this:
PLEASE NOTE: Successful applicants will be contacted within two weeks. We apologise but due to the volume of applications only successful applicants will be contacted.
So, a website that basically takes its copy from other websites and re-writes it can’t even be arsed to copy a standard email and send it to the people who have taken time to apply?
That is shoddy. There’s really nothing as disheartening as applying for something and for the company in question not to even give you a ‘thanks but no thanks’. It’s the very least anyone deserves.
Telling people you’re going to be ignorant beforehand doesn’t make it right.
I have seen the future
Posted on | December 17, 2010 | 101 Comments
I envisage a dark future. An Ireland in which streets are empty, shops are boarded up, people live underground and scurry about the place knowing that being on the surface has rewards but brings much danger.
Just a few of the thousands of pubs on Dorset St will remain open. It will be a brave man who ventures into one partake of the home-brewed ale and the imported polish vodka which is 98% turpentine.
Those that remain will forage, scavenge and do what they can to stay alive. The Phoenix Park will be a massive tented village, flooded with piss and with dead bodies lying in the open as the rain batters down. Much like Monday morning in the Oxegen campsite.
Nobody will be allowed leave. Nobody will be allowed in. The ports, air and sea, will have been closed down, made inoperable by the controlling junta’s henchmen. Coasts will be largely unpatroled but a shoot first, ask no questions, not even later, policy means those who try are taking a massive risk.
Jobs are scarce. Only those who blindly follow the rulers can even hope to exist in something approaching a civilised manner. The rest forced to simply exist in a post-apocolyptic land, where the silence is terrifying. A long way from the joyous day when the Politician’s Pyre in St Stephen’s Green burned for days, the waxy fats of Harney, Cowen and Co sustaining the flames as people danced and sang and drank and embraced, free at last from theyoke of party political tyranny.
A new day, a new dawn, a new life. And then they seized control. The signs had been there beforehand. Yet such was the desperation to escape the realities and burdens of every day life they were looked upon as something positive, something which brought people together.
Now they sit amidst the ruins of a nation, surrounded with luxury and opulence. The Headquarters in the former Gresham Hotel a palatial den of iniquity where they want for nothing while scoffing at those who dare wander an O’Connell St split down the middle by the fallen spire.
They used technology to win hearts, then they destroyed minds. An unholy YouTube alliance wreaked more damage than even Fianna Fail. No longer Ireland, no longer the Emerald Isle.
Instead the domain of the Crystal Bandits. A nation no more.
Did you ever wonder?
Posted on | December 16, 2010 | 54 Comments
I had a very strange dream last night in which an Italian friend of mine and his girlfriend were starring in a play I’d written. Disburbing really because I hate plays. His role was that of a denim clad cowboy who was angry with the world.
His dialogue was sensational. “Mamamia-pinky-ponky-cazzo” and then he would have to make this ‘tatatatatatatat’ sound. Her role was much more subtle and the story hinged on her being able to convey the overall meaning of the work which was about the denim clad cowboy and how he’d found life such a trial since he was told that his father owned a doughnut shop and was not the crime boss he’d previously thought.
It opened with great success to an audience of one. I was supposed to be just off-stage, whispering lines in case they forgot, but I found myself in a car talking to a bloke I used to play football with years and years ago. His girlfriend had just got a job in Guinness which was remarkable because his girlfriend had a giant sea shell instead of a head. She could talk though.
I wonder if we could carry out a late term abortion on Brian Cowen.
Whack whack
Posted on | December 15, 2010 | 105 Comments
From the comments on yesterday’s blog by Johnnie390
I remember those things. One of the guards, sorry, the Brothers, in the school always made sure he had a spanking new brown leather.
The leather. I was recently trying to explain to somebody of a much younger generation what would happen if you didn’t have your homework done when I was in school. Or what would happen if you were talking in class and the priest/teacher in question lost his temper with you.
Bamboo canes, leather straps, dusters in the face, sideburn reefs (not that they were really sideburns, but still), clips around the ear, punches and digs.
“And why didn’t you hit them back?”, this younger person asked.
“Hahahaha”, I said.
“But how dare they do that. That’s assault”, they said, indignantly.
“Hahahahahahaha”, I said.
The only way you could get some pleasure out of it was to pull your hands away at the last minute and sometimes the strapper would become the strapee, whacking themselves on the leg. Often though the frocks got in the way and not enough pain was inflicted. And then they’d go mental altogether and isntead of 6 straps you’d get 12.
I also remember at the start of every day someone had to give the weather in Irish. This bit always made me cringe. ‘Please not me, please not me, please not me, please not me’ because I never knew any of the weather in Irish.
“Ta sé ag sunolíocht”, I said one day when the ‘please not me’ didn’t work, but the laughter didn’t make up for the subsequent strapping.
Ok, it did.
The Templars and the Saracens
Posted on | December 14, 2010 | 86 Comments
Apparently we’re ‘nowhere near‘ finding extra-terrestrial life, according to some high kind of astronomy.
This disappoints me greatly, I have to admit. Not just because of the huge significance of such a discovery but because I have little faith in the ability of human beings to invent the cool stuff we should have by now.
Sure, I can get an app on my iPhone which can identify a song by ‘listening’ to a snippet of it but where’s my lightsaber, invisibility cloak, hover car, transporter, puppy vending machine and android butler?
Also, now that David Attenborough has shown us the entire world in hi-def BluRay it’s kinda losts its sparkle for me. I want to explore new worlds, triple-mooned planets with upside down gravity, reverse mountains and things we can’t even conceive of simply because they’re too ‘far out’ for our minds to imagine.
What of aliens themselves? We could meet a race that embraces humanity and teaches us wondrous things, how to free our minds and use the 90% of our brains that we’re unable to right now. We could meet a sub-servient lot and we could make them our very own slaves! One for everybody in the audience. I’ve always wanted a slave.
Or we could meet a crowd like V who pretend to be our friends but who really want us as food or a pack of total cunts who just want to kill us for sport. Whatever their inclination though it wouldn’t be boring. What if we met aliens who, when you milked them, filled your glass with the most delicious Bloody Mary or who pooed fillet steak? It’s not impossible. Think of what we could be missing out on.
We need aliens and alien life. Even if it kills us. I suspect we’re just not looking very fucking hard. When’s the last time we sent a manned spacecraft to the edge of the universe? Exactly.
keep looking »
