What am I doing ? I'll tell you what I'm doing,I'm
doing absolutely positively sweet fuck all because
I hate New Years eve with a passion,the kind of
passion I normally reserve for Knackers or bastards
who are cruel to animals.I hate the whole false
Bonhomie,shaking hands and kissing arseholes
who you would'nt normally spit on.
The last few times that I was forced to go out on
New years eve,I hid in the toilets till the countdown
and kissing was over.I have a feeling that the only
ones who go out are pug-ugly cunts who would'nt
get a hug at a funeral,not even their parent's,let
alone a kiss.If you do go out to some function or
other,chances are you'll be seated close to some
fucker that you've disliked since schooldays,him
and his entire pasty-faced,bovine-headed clan,
each one noisier and more obnoxious than the
Apart from my Scottish brother-in-law,I don't know
anyone who likes this horrible night,and he does'nt
count due to his being from Maroonland.You'd be
more likely to find somebody admitting to being a
fan of Gary Glitter than a fan of Hogma-poxy-nay.
Not only are you drinking and eating in a pool
infested with arseholes but you are paying through
the nose for the privilige.I've lost count of the times
I've been ripped-off at one of these "celebrations".
Like the time in the 70s when Paul Tullio,then
owner of Gourmet Restaurant,Armstrongs Barn,
now Paulo Tullio,Gourmand,Food critic and wine
expert invited us up to his restaurant for a" special"
New Years Eve.Oh yes,it was special all right,
special for him as he charged everyone 30 quid a
skull at the door and led us to a cold buffet.Not only
that but the entertainment consisted of some oul'
shite squeezing noise out of a poxy accordion.I
don't know about you but I firmly believe that the
only thing that should ever accompany a dreaded
accordion is a stanley knife.We thought out we'd
never get,and back to civilization before the pubs
Like the time we'd booked into "The tree of
Idleness",a top of the range Greek Restaurant
owned by a Cypriot called Akis,a friend of mine at
the time,in Bray.We had a very pleasant meal,the
four of us,and as the clock ticked on towards twelve,
the waiters placed bottles of Champaigne at each
table,nice touch I thought,classy.Midnight struck
and the Champers was opened and drank with the
unneeded help of Akis who had joined us.He also
helped us with a second and a third followed by
a bottle of putrid sickly-sweet Cypriot piss-water
brandy,then proceeded to charge us for the lot,the
miserable swine.I'm glad hes dead now,probably
died of meanness.
And all this for what,the end of one poxy year
and the beginning of a new bastard that all our
experiences tell us will be just as miserable as the
Should auld acquantance be forgot
and never brought to mind ?
If fuckin only.
Oh,and happy New Year Year Doc and all in Maroonland.