Too Good Not to Share

This is an actual emergency room photo of a fisherman who lost control of his high-speed bass boat in West Virginia . Wardens believe that he was traveling at a speed of approximately 75 MPH at the time of the accident.He was unable to negotiate a curve in the narrow waterway.Unfortunately for him, upon striking the shoreline and being ejected from the boat,he landed back end first on an old fence post. You can probably picture what happened next, but the attached picture really says it all.The good news is that after about 6 months, this man made a full recovery after suffering a shattered hip, broken leg, several broken ribs, internal injuries and soft tissue damage. Doctors credited his recovery to the fact that the post lodged itself so tightly that there was little or no blood loss. Now that's got to hurt!!!

Where's me fuckin' dog ?

This blogosphere has gone to fuck,I just stepped out for a
minute and some whore's bastard robbed my guard-dog.
If you come across him, let me know and there'll be a
bottle of Jaegermeister in it for you.You'll know it is him
because of the teeth-marks you'll have all over your body.




As I'm here.

All I'm saying is , wouldn't you have to feel a bit sorry for
that Wolfgang Priklopil,imagine,eight years without a
holiday,or even a day off.

From the Navajo Beautyway Healing Chart.

All that has harmed me will leave me,

leaving my body cool once more.

Within me today,I shall be well.

All fever will come from me,

and leave me,leave my brow cool.

I will hear today

and see today

and be my own true self today.

This is the day I shall walk.

This is the day when all that is ill will leave me

and I shall be as I was,

as I walk in a cool body.

This day onwards I shall be happy

for nothing will prevent me.

I shall walk and beauty will go before me.

I shall walk and beauty will be behind me.

I shall walk and beauty will be above me.

I shall walk and beauty will be beneath me.

I shall walk and beauty will surround me.

I shall walk and speak of beauty.

For the rest of my days I shall be whole,

for all things are beautiful.



Sin e.



A.B. has left the building.

Chosen People me Arse

If there is a God he chose the wrong fuckin' people.

A pox on the bloodthirsty bastards and their warmongering
sponsors.

20 Eyes for an Eye.

I was going to have a rant about the Israelis today but there
really is no point as they have the most effective and efficient
public relations outfit that has ever been known.The only one
that has ever come close to them belongs to the murdering
babykillers we have up the North.You would have to wonder
why anyone ever asks a spokesperson from Israel or from
Sinn Fein anything because all you ever get is the usual oul'
"poor us" spiel that they've been spouting for years,everything
is everybody's fault but theirs,no matter who they happen to
be holocausting.All I'm saying is that they've learnt well from
the real founder of the state of Israel,Mr. A. Hitler.

Just sometimes you'd think that it might almost be worth not
having any petrol for a while because of some Hamas splinter
group having some kind of Dirty bomb.All I can do is not buy
any Avocado pears or other "Carmel" brands.Cunts.

Two Fingers.

You don't have to like John Prescott,or admire him,but you have

to take your hat off to him,he's got a neck like a jockey's bollocks.

The press hate him,as do the media in general,put none of them

has landed the killer blow,as yet.His own party has as little regard

for him as the opposition,and still he hangs on in there,collecting

his obscene wages,pocketing all the expences he can manage while

living in luxury at the tax-payer's expence.On top of this,he has a

huge index-linked pension to look forward to,and in August he

gets England to play with,as his own,for a few weeks.

How the fuck does he get away with it ? What does he know ?

He acts like he hasn't a care in the world,maybe he hasn't.He is

the exact specimen for which the word Bufoon was invented,the

reason for his continuing existence is unclear,he is as useless as

Kerry Katona ,but still.......

Why shouldn't he play Croquet,its only a game for useless oul'

wankers anyway,and wasn't it refreshing to see his reaction

having been caught porking (how apt ) his secretary.By the way,

they did seem to be having right craic in those photos,but anyway,

he didn't do the normal cowardly thing and blackmail his wife into

posing with him while telling the world that she'll stand by him.

I bet she kicked the bollix out of him,I'd say the press was the

least of his problems when the news broke,tee hee.

What I say is,if somebody gets up so many peoples noses,he

must be doing something right.And ask yourself this,if you had

to go for a pint with Tony Blair,Gordon Brown,David Cameron or

John Prescott,who would you rather be stuck with ?

Bad News

They say that bad news/bad luck comes in threes.

If fucking only.Thats all I'm saying.

I hit a new level on the oul' gargling front this week,and me
after being reasonably good for ages.Last week can't be
counted as someone gave me a litre of Paddy,but in fairness
to me,I got nearly four days out of it,but there was also trips
to the pub.And wine and beer to help with the pressures of
cooking and eating,and online gambling.

I mean,who would have thought they were serious about that
50 K.P.H. speed limit on the Naas dual-carriageway,fifty,for
fucks sake,three lanes,straight road,broad daylight,5.15 A.M.,
dry conditions,140 K.P.H.,2 more penalty points,cunts.

So I was rooting around for a drink yesterday and the choice
boiled down to beer,which wasn't what was required,Baileys (puke)
or a bottle of Mulled wine,talk about Hobson's choice.Still,it
wasn't too bad once I got halfway down.

I mean,if you were doing 50 in those conditions,you might be in
danger of stepping out of the car to see if you were stopped.

Haughey

Bearing in mind that the Irish don't speak ill of the dead.

Hoch Ptoooooo.

Barbeques are Cunts

I have been threatened with a barbeque this afternoon after
skillfully avoiding having one all year, and last, by using the
simple,yet effective method of lying about the weather fore-
cast.You see I am very good at forecasting the weather,unlike
those gobshites in the Met. office.As the weather was important
to my work in a previous incarnation I became quite adept at
reading the charts and coming up with my own conclusions
with the result that my word (on the weather) is gospel in our
house.

As in "What,barbeque today ?,are you mad ?, sure its going to
piss rain." or

"Barbeque in that lazy wind,it'd rather go through you than
around you." or

"Yes,why not,we should be finished before the rain comes."

I am still very accurate ,when it suits me,but for some
strange reason nobody listens to me anymore ???

Two years ago, in a moment of madness,I let Malicia talk me
in to buying one of those new-fangled gas barbeques that does
everything for you, including ruining your food,only more eff-
icently.We'll stop right here while I mention that,as I have said
before,even though I am a very slow,one-fingered typist,I ref-
use to use that horrible word baaaaaaaaarby as it seems to
make the whole proceedings sound even more common and
distasteful.So,getting back to the purchase of the gas-b.,the
novelty of having Malicia cooking outside continued all that
Summer and I took a rest from the kitchen.I normally do
most of our cooking because I'm not bad at it,have the time
and find it to be less of a chore than Malicia does, so fair's
fair,eitherways,she enjoyed the novelty in much the same
way as normal husbands presumably do.

I have no objection to barbeques in theory,in theory they're
fine,its the actuality with which I have problems .Firstly its
the waste of good food that I deplore,no food tastes better
for having been incinerated,in fact it is rare to be served fare
that is reasonably above the standard of edibility.Even if the
cook manages to get some of the meat/fish ready for con-
sumption without destroying it completely,they will surely
make a bollix of something else to be served,the potatoes
too raw or burned,the coleslaw sour,the asparagus as black
as a porn star's micky.

If you are having a b. in your own garden,there seems to be
more preparation involved than for a full Christmas Dinner,
except you have to carry all your stuff outside,and you will
have forgotten several items,involving many more trips back
to the house.Someone has to do the marinades and make
the relishes and dips,me,and carry out the awkward and
heavy stuff,me.

If you have forgotten what happened last time and invite a
few guests,they hang around like Seagulls,watching every
move you make,or worse,offering to help.And theres always
one,isn't there.Oh you know who you are,in spite of all the
warnings from his/her partner to behave themselves this
time and that an eye will be upon them at all times,still man-
age to escape the watcher and make an absolute Poultice of
themselves,forgetting or ignoring the fact that Sun,Gargle
and empty stomachs do not make great bedfellows.

We won't even mention the flies,bluebottles and other insects
that exist solely to irritate us,when not pre-occupied with
spreading disease across our food.Or the arsehole neighbours
who must be watching through binoculars before rushing out
and starting the grass -cutting relay,as soon as one bastard
stops another starts,sometimes with a strimmer.I swear to
fuck,even though our nearest neighbour is 100 yards away,
he made so much noise yesterday,I couldn't hear myself fart,
including during the match.What sort of heathens are these
people ?

No,give me good food,well prepared and all ready at the same
time,civilized .

Anyway,I think its going to rain.

Exams

It is that time of year again when unfortunate kids the length
and breadth of the country are plunged into despair over the
prospects of taking their exams.The fact that these exams will
have a huge bearing on their careers and lives make them al-
most unbearably stressful.

It will probably come as a shock to most of you that I reached
Leaving Cert. standard many years ago,but we have all passed
a lot of water under the bridge since then.I have sometimes told
this story to a particularly forlorn student if the mood took me,
and because I'm in an uncharacteristically good mood this after-
noon,have decided to share it with you although I do not advoc-
ate the following of my example as not everyone can carry the
burden of guilt as easily as myself.

As generations of students before me and plenty after were told,
"Don't attempt to cheat,under any circumstance,or you will be
caught and you'll bring disgrace on yourself,your family and
the school,you'll never get away with it.Well I ploughed my way
through most of my exams in a mostly honest manner,all the time
being aware that the Supervisors,who were our soon to be ex-
teachers,had little or no interest in the proceedings and seemed
more intent on the perusal of the daily newspapers.

On the last day of the exams I decided to go for it and armed my-
self with all the notes,text-books and answer-books that might
prove useful and took my place with the rest of the students. I
suppose if this was a fable,I would say that I got caught cheating,
decided to mend my ways and become a better person, but I
didn't,which is how,much to the surprise of my teacher, I man-
aged to achieve Honours in Latin.

Quod erat demonstrandum.
(or whatever it should be.)

Blunt the useless cunt

I heard this yesterday and thought it was a gas.

Salad Days

I'm not a great fan of the Summer because it makes people
unseemly happy and for no great reason.People you are after
seeing all Winter traipsing about with pusses like Celine Dion
suddenly have springs in their steps and idiotic grins on their
faces.

It would churn your stomach to see couples walking about,
hand-in-hand,smiling inanely at each other.Even worse are
the families with one of those stupid looking go-fast buggies
with the wheel out in front like a Chopper in Easy Rider. No,
it suits me better when everyone is just as miserable as me.

As far as I can see,the only good thing about Summer is that
you can use butter (real butter) without resorting to a hammer
and chisel.

Now I'm not a violent man,despite my size,weight and strength.
Apart from the time that I tried to twist a fellow's head off his
shoulders when he pissed me off at a party(Its quite difficult but
I'd always wanted to twist someone's head off).

And apart from that chap in the sportscar who had cut me up
in traffic and sneered as he went past.Well he wasn't sneering
when I caught up with him at the next set of traffic-lights!

And apart from that teenager whose leg I broke with a kick
when I caught him stealing drink from my van one Christmas
eve.

And apart from the dozens of people upon whom I've threatened
to visit violence over the years(but never had to ).

Well maybe I am a Little violent and I've a good mind to go
over and have a word with oul' Go-be-the-wall Maroon who
is openly canvessing for replacements for myself and Binty.
No sooner had me'n'Binty sat down to rest our weary bones
when the treacherous oul' bollix is out,batin' the ditches for
extras to use in "Gothic."
You wouldn't mind but an educated man,like he's supposed to
be,should have realised that he'd have to bate 4 or 5 bloggers
into one to encapsulate the diversity of characters either of
us are or manic depressives,in other words.
The sheer gall of the little sleeveen,he's like a sweetheart who
suggests a trial seperation and then you see her warin' the
face off half the school disco,you fuckin' bitch,Janet.
As I've said,I've a good mind to go over and.......

In case you're wondering.....

A dark and terrible misfortune has befallen your oul' pal,Barney,
something so dreadful that I did not see it coming,had not imag-
ined it in my worst nightmares.
There I was,minding my own business,in a mild and unassuming
manner when an (ex) friend made me an offer I couldn't refuse.
The fuckin' bastard only offered me work, in front of Malicia.
What sort of a low-down scumbag does a thing like that? I mean,
fairs fair,but thats below the belt.I know I said somewhere that
I havn't decided whether I am between employments or just
early-retired, and I hadn't,but where am I supposed to find time
to work?
I don't mind doing little bits of work and the money does come
in handy,but its so fuckin' time consuming.
Before I had a chance to think up an excuse,Malicia nearly took
my ankle off with a well timed kick and all I could splutter was,

"Well if you're stuck I..."

"Great,Ill pick you up at 4.30 in the morning."

Bollix.So thats what happened,in case you're wondering.Missed you.

When the fields are white with Daisies....













I'll return.

Schoolyard Bullies

The only bright side to America's insidious influence over the
world is that ALL previous empires have fallen and are now
without pots within which to piss.Strictly speaking,America
is not an empire but her culture and influence are more far-
reaching than say,the British empire where the Sun never
set.Well the Sun cannot set on the American empire since
they annexed the Moon and Space.None of us will ever live
to see America become the butt of jokes like Little Brittainers,
Italians and Greeks have but we can rest assured that happen
it will.

We can even have a sneaky snigger at the loud-mouthed fat
bastards that waddle our way this Summer in the knowledge
of what will become of their off-spring.Don't be tempted to
feel sorry for them either because out of every group you
meet,at least half of them will have voted for Bush.Now theres
a fuckin' beaut.

Georgie boy,Dubya,the missing link,brain-dead pox-bottle,
cruel-as-Caligula cunt.I, for one,havn't bothered commenting
on the little bollix for a while because for one it is just too easy
to mock him,God knows,he he gives enough reasons but also
because he is mid-way through his final term and he can't do
much more to fuck-up the world,can he ? Of course he can and
what he is considering doing in Iran doesn't bear thinking about
but that is not the frightening thing.

What is frightening is who WE are going to be inflicted with
next. I say we because as leader of the free world he will be
our president as well, God help us.As far as I can see the Dem-
ocrats have Hilary Clinton and no one else and you can forget
about her as middle America is too backward to elect a woman.
No,the Republicans have perfected the Neo-Con right-wing
cloning machine and will have some red-neck none of us have
ever heard of puffing out his chest even as we speak,ready to
carry on the crusade.

Meanwhile Bush and his henchman Rhumsfeld strut the world
like schoolyard bullies,picking on the weak,Iraq and Afghanistan,
while avoiding the other bullies, China and North Korea,lest
they be given bloody noses.

G'luck.

Genesis,Yes,Wishbone Ash.

God looked down on what she had created and was pissed-off.
She was extremely concerned at the number of her children
who were addicted to blogging and disgusted at the blasphemy
there over the past few weeks.

"Enough." She said.

Genesis 19:15 KJV
"And when the morning arose, then the angels hastened Barney, saying, Arise, take thy wife, and thy two daughters, which are here; lest thou be consumed in the iniquity of the Blogoshere. 16 And while he lingered, the men laid hold upon his hand, and upon the hand of his wife, and upon the hand of his two daughters; the LORD being merciful unto him: and they brought him forth, and set him without the city. 17 And it came to pass, when they had brought them forth abroad, that he said, Escape for thy life; look not behind thee, neither stay thou in all the plain; escape to the mountain, lest thou be consumed."

And Barney said,"Lord,they can't all be bad,let me try to save
the decent souls therein."
The Lord answered,"Show me two decent men and I'll spare
everyone."

Barney hastened forth and came first upon Maroon,a notorious
Apothocary and man of ill repute.A short conversation confirmed
his mind to be infested with impure thoughts and deemed to be
beyond redemption.

A comely woman approached in the distance,raising Barney's
hopes of finding some decency but on nearing him she snagged
one of her 6" heels on the cobblestones and issued forth such
foul language that the saintly Barney had to cover his ears.

Much wailing and gnashing of teeth emanated from a dwelling
on a sidestreet and upon entering,Barney perceived a bearded
man laid out with a crowd gathered around his lifeless corpse.
The weeping women were so distrought that tears mingled with
mucus from their mouths and noses dripped on to the life-less
body,covering its face and beard with a saline residue.Even as
he looked,the body stirred and to gasps of horror sat bolt up-
right and issued a string of profanities at the fleeing crowd.

Next up,Barney's little heart was gladdened to meet Kim, a
renowned gentleman and held in the highest esteem by all he
encountered.Although he had been known to take amusement
from the blasphemy of others he was not,himself,a blasphemer.
Writing Kims name in a notebook,he continued his search.

Presently he came to the house of the Vestal Virgins from
whence he heard the sound of a woman sobbing.

"I'll surely get some names for the notebook here." Thought
Barney as he entered the portals and followed the sound of
the distressed woman.For that is what she was when he
found her,the most beautiful woman he had ever seen,her eyes
red from crying,her cheeks black from running mascara.

"Whatever is the matter,my dear,and where is everyone?

"They've all f f f fffff...." she sobbed

"Fallen ?"

"Fffffffff........"

"Fell into evil ways ? "

"Fffffffff........."

"Fornicated ?"

"Fffffffff........." There now,my dear,take a deep breath and tell
me your name.

"Its Lindy."sniffed she.Barney took out his notebook and began
to write her name in to it.

"They've all fucked off." Wailed Lindy,tears flowing again.

"Gone to the Brothel have they ?To become ladies of easy
virtue,have they ? Gone to earn some easy money,have they ?"

Lindy continued to cry but now they were tears of rage.

"Its fucking arseholes like you that have women like us living
in the Stone-age,seeing us as either virgins or whores you
pathetic little gombeen."

"But but."

"But me arse,I'll have you know that it was sheer boredom
that drove those women out,back to their careers."

"But I thought........."

"Thought is it,you need brains to think.Do you know Andraste
ran her own Camel train before she was brought here and Sam
had two businesses going.Miss Beauty,Miss Clairwil and the
new girl,Miss Stroppy all have their own lives to lead."

"But surely you......?"

"I was asleep when they all left or I'd have gone as well,I've
two books to finish writing,and two more to translate so if
you think I've nothing better to do than hang around and
play the Vestal Virgin for wankers like you then you've got
another think coming,arsehole."

Barney turned and walked slowly away,crossing out the Li he
had written in his book. His head reeling from the lecture,he
sought out the solace of his local,the appropriately named
"Den of Iniquity" where all forms of debauchery were encour-
aged by owner/manager,the notorious XX Major.It was here
that all the outwardly good citizens showed their true colours;
The gentle and wise primate cruelly prodding his human slave
to make him dance for the amusement of his fellow drinkers,
the flame-haired joker who had made his name in family enter-
tainment now regaling all and sundry with the most vile and
disgusting tales of perversion.There was the local doctor who
sated his fetish by licking the feet of leprous women,

"Here try one Barney,its not contagious."As he offered a
scabby foot,its owner grinning lasciviously through cracked
and bleeding lips.

"Maybe later."He made his way to the bar where he joined two
school-teachers who unfortunately for Barney had been there
all day and had just been refused more credit.

"Gis a tenner." Said Brewski,the drunker of the two.

"Go on,gis a tenner ,each ."Said Binty,his companion.

"You'll have to earn it, on your knees." Joked barney and pre-
tended to fumble with his fly.

"Ill give you knees, You dirrrty bastard." As he headbutted
Barney in the face,and Binty joined in by kicking him in the
ear as he went down.

"Get a doctor." Said XX.

"Not him." Said Barney as the fettishist approached.

Another doctor came out of the backroom,where he had been
dallying with what looked like a woad-coloured bearded lady,
but nobody had ever seen such a fur covered bearded lady
before.The doctor lanky,balding and bearded, seemed to float
across to Barney where he felt his pulse,fondled his testacles
and robbed his wallet.

Much sadder and very much wiser,Barney made his way home,

"Fuckin' shower of cunts." He thought as he tried to stop the
bleeding,

"Fire'n'Brimstone,whatever the fuck that is, is too good for
them, the cunts."

Outside his gate, Barney met Kim again.

"What was that list for,Barney ?" When Barney finished expl-
aining the reason,Kim exclaimed,

"You mean God is going to destroy the whole city ?"

Barney nodded.

Kim,aghast, "What a cunt."

Barney reached into his pocket and removing his notebook,
he tore it in bits and threw it in the air.Kim gave him a look
of disgust and said,

"Its litterbugs like you that have this city as bad as it is."

"Thats the least of your problems." Said Barney and went in
to help Malicia pack.




















Malicia looks back



Genesis 19:23 KJV
"The sun was risen upon the earth when Barney entered into Zoar. (24)Then the LORD rained upon The Blogoshere brimstone and fire from the LORD out of heaven; (25) And he overthrew those cities, and all the plain, and all the inhabitants of the cities, and that which grew upon the ground. (26) But his wife ,Malicia, looked back from behind him, and she became a pillar of salt."

Morto

I was leaving Fairyhouse the other day,in a mild and inoffensive
manner,a little sadder and wiser than I had been three hours
previously.I had left during the second last race to avoid the
traffic and it was very quiet outside except for the Hawkers who
had been facing the crowds as they entered,now had their stalls
turned towards the exits.

"Any apples or pears,mister ?"

"No thanks."

"Ah go on mister,bring 'em home for the youngsters."

"No thanks, sure don't I sell them meself." This usually got me
off the hook but the old crone was persistent.She switched tack.

"Toblerones or chocolate then."

"No thanks."

"Ten for a fiver,take your pick,the last few."

"No,I'm ok.,thanks."

"Don't be so mane,go on, for the kids,ten for a fiver."

"They're sick of chocolate,no thanks." If its one thing kids
don't need more of at Easter,its chocolate.Don't talk to me
about skid-marks.

"Ya grumpy oul' fecker,givvus the fiver anyway."

"Tell you what,come around the back of the stands with me
and earn your fiver."Now this oul' fuck was eighty if she was
a day and could easily have been the foster-mother Mick
Jagger sang about on Jumpin' Jack Flash and I didn't even
think she heard me.Wrong.

"Ya dirty oul' thing,Mary,Mary,did you hear what he said.
Ya dirty thing,ya dirty oul' thing."Her voice got louder
and shriller,

"Mary,did ya hear him,ya dirty oul' thing."

"How much did you say the chocolate was ?"

"I'll sell ya nuthin',ya dirty oul' thing."

I could still hear her giving out as I got into my car,hundreds
of yards away,talk about tail between me legs,I thought out
I'd never get.

Serves me right.

God,the vindictive oul' bitch,got her own back on
me today.

I was tortured and robbed this morning and am feeling very
sorry for myself.

But far worse than the actual extraction was the Dentist telling
me to avoid smoking and alcohol(underlined) for the rest of the
day.So far so good with the smoking but the whiskey tasted funny
through a straw.

What really happened

His eyelids were stuck,his throat was dry,every bone in his body
ached and his tongue felt like a cow camel's clitoris after a sand-
storm.He had,he thought,the worst hangover in history,the
mother of all hangovers and as the first waves of customary guilt
mixed with feelings of stupidity began to wash over him ,he
remembered with a shock that he hadn't been drinking last
night.

He shuddered as the nightmare that was the last few days came
slowly back to him,the shudders themselves causing even more
pain to his tormented body.Using his fingers he forced first one
eye ,then the other ,blinking painfully as he tried to focus in the
darkness until a dizzy nausea overcame him and he lapsed
into unconsciousness.

When he stirred again he noticed a chink of light but in his
disoriented state he couldn't fathom from whence it came,
floor or ceiling,wall or door.Remembering that he had a prev-
ious appointment he tried to struggle up but found himself to
be wrapped tightly in some kind of sheet.With every strain of
endevour to disengage himself from the sheet,his body re-
belled until he thought he might faint from the pain but he
made one last frantic effort and finally succeeded but in
doing so fell painfully to the ground,his legs still tangled in
the acursed sheet.Breathing heavily,he gingerly freed his legs
and crawled towards the shaft of light.

He felt his strength returning as he discovered what appeared
to be a large bolder blocking the exit to the cave he found him-
self in.And he remembered he was to meet his friends outside
this cave.Counting slowly from 1 to x he took a deep breath,
rolled the bolder aside and jumped outside,

"Ta da.",said Jesus with his arms outsretched theatrically.

The silence that greeted him was equalled only by the lack
of an audience.

"I must be too early," thought Jesus as he slunk back inside,
rolling the bolder closed behind him.He waited until the beam
of light got stronger and changed direction,what seemed like
forever but was probably an hour before readying himself
once more.

"The cunts'll surely be here by now." he thought,rolled back
the rock, jumped outside and

"Ta daaaaaaaaaaaaa ."

Not a fuckin' sinner."Thats fuckin' lovely,that is," as he poked
a bush,"the first,the one and fuckin' only fuckin' LIVE res-
urrection and the cunts can't be bothered turning up.Well
they needn't think I'm going to do it again for them."

He trudged off into town to find them,muttering all the way,

"Ungrateful shower of cunts."

He went to the hall where they used to meet,pray,smoke and
tell dirty jokes but there was nobody about.Deciding that they
must be drowning their sorrows in the pub he went there next.
The owner,carrying kegs out, saw him approach and said,

"Ah Jesus,its yourself,havn't seen you for a few days."

"I was about my father's business,have you seen Peter and
the lads ? "

"Upstairs in the function-room,been there two days,go on up."

Jesus crept up the stairs,the racket getting more raucous the
closer he got to the door.Suddenly the door opened and Peter
tumbled out ,not even seeing his Lord ,cupped his hands and
roared downstairs,

"More wine Inn-keeper,before the women sober up and stop
dancing."

Horrified Jesus said,

"Peter,my rock,what the fuck is going on "

Trying to focus ,Peter said.

"Who's that," and squinting his eyes ,"Jesus Jesus,its you."

"Jesus Jesus,gettit."He said,collapsing in a fit of giggles.He
staggered to his feet and with tears rolling down his face
hugged Jesus and said,

"Me best friend in the world."He stood back clasped Jesus by
the hand,

"You and me Jesus,You and me,put it there.Jesus,Jesus."
and started laughing once more at his own wit.

"Whats the fuckin' story ?" said Jesus,losing patience and shak-
ing Peter by the sholders.

"Partaaaayyyyyy"

"What fuckin' party ?"

"Judas came in to some money."

The real meaning of Easter.

Happy Easter

Captain's Log

The following was found alongside the parchment that
is considered to be a part of the Gospel of St. Judas.



Thursday.

The bleedin' Jews have me heart scalded.What about this and
what are you doing about that ?Now they're on their high horses
about some damned hippy going around preaching love and
saying he's the son of God,as if that was unusual around here. If
I had a piece of silver for every unwashed long-haired layabout
spouting love and other bull-shit I'd have retired back to Rome
years ago.

The Pharisees have lodged a complaint about him causing a
kerfuffle at one of their meetings and now the moneylenders,
two of whom were major contributers to the Mayor's election
fund, are accusing him of being the cause of a 50% drop in bus-
iness.

This Jaysus,or whatever his name is , is generally accompanied
by a large rabble ,but in all fairness they have caused us no
problems so far and have been good for business for the hot-
dog and kebab vendors.They keep pretty much to themselves,
camping out in the open and their singing and clapping goes on
well into the night.There have been reports of several ladies of
ill-repute in the entourage but they havn't solicited any locals
as yet.

I'll have to finish this journal at a later date as some of my sol-
diers have just brought in two men suspected of obscene be-
haviour after being caught kissing in the park at Gethsemanee.

Cousin It

Rereading that last post reminded me of all the seamen in my
family including fishermen and a ships cook and also cousin It,
a pilot in one of Ireland's minor Ports.Both in and out of his
presence he is never referred to as anything else because none
of us know what to make of him.In living memory he is the only
member of the Barney clan to have never touched a drink or
cigarette,we don't know where he came from,hes the original
white sheep of the family.

It's father was the Port Pilot and It was a crewmember on the
Pilot's Launch which was used to tender the Pilot to and from
the ships and so was well qualified for the post on the death of
his father.

Came the day a British Cargo approached the harbour and on
boarding,cousin It was met by the captain,who,much to the
amusement of his crew,boomed condesendingly,

"Well Paddy,I hope you know where all the rocks are."

"Begod Captain,I don't."

"What !" spluttered the captain.

"But I know where theres none."

Grand trip

Well what would you do.Parker Dunne came in at lunchtime on
Thursday with free passes on the Jonathan Swift and the keys
to his mate's flat in Liverpool,all buck shee for the weekend.Dr.
Tim and myself volunteered to use the passes so they wouldn't
go to waste and as the sailing was at 4.30 p.m. there wasn't time
to get our own weekend passes,me from Malicia,Tim from his
war-office,as he calls her,but we were sure (at the time) that
they would have given us their blessings.

It had been a few years since my last trip to the Grand National
and although I've never missed it on the telly,there is no sub-
stitute for being there in the flesh.The bodies glistening with
sweat,nostrils flaring,manes swishing this way and that as
their eyes searched out someone to buy their drinks.It was as
if I'd never missed a meeting there as the old question popped
up once more,have these women no fucking mirrors at
home.You'd think it was summer in Marbella we were,such
was the lack of concealing clothes,with more suet and lard than
you'd see in Denny's factory.The bouncer in the night-club told
me they had to change the lighting because the florescent
showing up the dentures on grab-a granny nights was putting
off customers.

We never did find out what it was exactly that Parker did or
was supposed to be doing on the ship but his white shirt with
the little bit of braid never got dirty and we knew he was on duty
because he only drank vodka to our pints the whole way over. I
had figured out that he had some stroke going with the bar-men
and the people in the not-so-dutyfree shop with the exchange
rate because he changed our Euros for Sterling one-for-one
instead of us only getting 66 pence each per Euro.

It so happened that some management from Irish Ferries were
on our trip and asked Parker to explain why the ratio of Sterling
to Euro was only 3% on the Dublin Ferries while on the Cork-
Swansea route the ratio was 16%.Without batting an eyelid
Parker told the accountant

"Transfer me down to the Cork Ferry and I'll sort them out for you."

'cause their lips are moving.

Isn't it gas looking at the hurt little faces of liars when nobody
believes a word they say anymore. They have become so used
to Gobshites taking everything they say as gospel that they are
shocked to the core on being exposed for the lying cunts that
they are,like little boys caught wanking by their mothers.The
fixed grins on these two yesterday as they tried to present a

united front to the British people yesterday was nothing short
of laughable.That is precisely what we should do,laugh in their
faces whever they open their sleeveen mouths.

Monkey-face Bush can't understand why we're not quaking in
our boots at the idea of Iran possibly trying to cobble together
a couple of Nuky Fireworks,so what.The last time I looked
there had never been any Israeli readers on this blog so my
stats. will survive intact if Iran does manage to level the
playing -field a little.

Then we have the murdering cunts over here who are deeply
hurt that nobody believes them when they deny all knowledge
of the execution of a former member who admitted having been
a British spy for over 20 years.Oh no it wasn't us,as if the idea
never entered their evil,soon-to-be-respectable-politician heads.

How do we know when politicians are lying ? See above.

He'll never,ever go home again.

I never had much time for Gene Pitney,he was too much of a
girly-type singer for my taste.But to end up dead in Cardiff,
Fuck me,I wouldn't wish that on my worst enemy.

later that day in the Country.

So Larry and meself were having a right oul' chinwag,leaning on
a gate in a mild and inoffensive manner when a Traveller's van
whizzes by,at about 19 m.p.h.They drive this slowly so they can
case houses on both sides of the road,the thieving cunts.

"You'd better keep the Shotgun handy tonight." I said to Larry.

"Sure I've not got one since the cuntsa guards took it off me."

"How the fuck come."

It turns out that Larry heard some voices out the back last
Autumn and when he went outside to investigate he saw two
Travellers looking over his fence.When he challenged them and
asked what they were doing,they told him to mind his own fuck-
ing business.

"I'll show you whats my business.",said Larry and went to get
his shotgun.When he came out again one of the knackers had
disappeared and the other had retreated about 50 yards and
was standing underneath a Chestnut tree shouting abuse and
making gestures at Larry.

Without hesitation Larry loosed off both barrels,which had
contained Eley's finest no.4 s, into the tree above the knacker.
Which is where the second knacker had taken refuge and now
came tumbling down through the branches to land in a heap
at the feet of the other.The other looked at his friend,looked
at Larry and ran off screaming

"He's kilt Mikey,he's kilt Mikey."

Mikey,getting over the shock took to running as well,passing
out his companion before they reached the next ditch.

That night the local Gardai came and confiscated Larry's gun.

"I suppose I should have minded my own fucking business." said Larry.

A.B.the Philanthropist

Or just nosey do-gooder busybody ?

Fuck me,that Garda shining his torch in my face the other night
must have effected me more than I thought because while you
lot were out guzzling drink,carousing,enjoying yourselves or
getting over the effects of a night out at the Smuggies,I've been
trying to make the world a better place.

Don't just sit there with your mouths open,get over here and see if I can
do anything for you,or if you can help some other poor sod.

New Leaves.

I was fuckin' mouldy last night,in the screaming horrors.I had so
much drink aboard that every time I leant forward some of it
spilled out.No particular reason,availability and a willing body
and mind is all it took.But thats it, game over,end of.I have seen
the light both literally and figuratively,a blinding flash.

It was about 9.30,I suppose as I staggered outside to get a taxi
home when I stumbled and fell across the footpath.It was like a
scene in one of those shows where people send in tapes of som-
one making a bollix of themselves,where the person is falling
forward for ages before collapsing in a heap.It was when I tried
to get up and rolled over on my back,struggling like a tortoise,
that the blinding flash hit me and my whole life flashed before
me.A lifetime of evil thoughts and deeds unfolded before my
eyes as if it was a David Lean epic and I resolved there and
then to change my life.

Since this blog is a fairly close depiction of my life,it too will
show all the changes manifest in me.Next week I propose to
reveal my real identity and begin a more family oriented type
of diary/blog.I will discuss community affairs and publish a
recipe each day,starting on Monday with my recipe for whole
stuffed dog.I will also be keeping you informed about my
fights against alcohol and cigarettes and in general about my
efforts to be a better person.

So lets do it together,one day at a time.



Update ;Bollocks , I didn't mean to publish that till tomorrow.

A day in the Country.

I was walking the land at Aisling when I met Larry,a neighbour-
ing farmer.Over the weekend I had driven down to my estate
in Wicklow to collect some rent and inform the tenants of the
forthcoming increases.Over the years I have tried to keep all
interaction with the peasants to a business level and instead
get all the gossip in the local or directly from Larry.He tells me
whos drinking too much,who is riding who and who has sold
well or badly at Ashford (Mart).

When I asked him how his own Heifers went the previous week
he answered in his usual way of telling me without telling me
anything,

"I didn't get what I wanted,but I got more than I expected."

"Thats great,Good Sales?"

"Not great."Larry would tell you the secret of Fatima but ask
him about his own business and he shuts up like a duck's arse
in a near-frozen pond.It is, of course,the middle of the Lambing
season in that neck of the woods and Larry,along with the rest
of them was up to his tits in Lambs,sickly and healthy,yews
the same,afterbirths and casualties.

As you all know sheep are the most stupid creatures in all
evolution,they're the blondes of the animal Kingdom.They go
out of their way to make life difficult for themselves and the
unfortunate cunt looking after them.They'll wait for the cold-
est,wettest,windiest night before dropping their lamb,twins
or triplets.They will drop one lamb in a corner of the field
before wandering over to another corner to drop her twin,
leaving the first to the elements and to the mercy of grey
crows and foxes.The dozy cunts are able to look after single
lambs themselves but twins and triplets generally have to
be brought inside and kept under infra-red lighting for a few
days till they strenghten up.

The yews themselves often find themselves in difficulty as
well and it is not uncommon for them to displace their womb
during Lambing.Farmers usually carry twine and a darning-
needle to sew up her gee (without anaesthetic) and I have
also seen them using those big pins that you use in Kilts, to
keep everything in.All in all its a busy time for farmers but
fuck them,its about the only time the lazy cunts do any work.
Sheep and farmers deserve each other.So,I was asking Larry
about his lambs,farmers ,in spite of the extra work involved
are only interested in twins and triplets because of the extra
profit at sales time.

"Many triplets ?"

"Not too many."

"Lose many ?"

"Let me tell you something about lambs," he said balefully,

"If you kept the feckin' lambs under the bed,they'd drown
in the piss-pot."

I predict a Riot

You really have to hand it to the oul' Froggies when it comes to
letting their feelings be known.Known the world over for their
sophistication and laid-back attidude but all this goes out the
window if you piss them off.

In this case they disprove the theory that a million people can't
be wrong as they so plainly are.They don't equate high unem-
ployment with the fact that its so hard to sack the cunts over
there.I have employed people in my time (some of them are
doing reasonably well again since the therapy) and I swear it
would have been easier to train monkeys,sack them ?,it took a
supreme effort not to strangle them.

But thats beside the point,if they don't like something they're
not behind the door in letting you know.Mess them around
and before you have a drag on a Gitane all you Ports are
blockaded and your Highways choked-up.Can you see them
putting up with unfortunate people on trolleys in A&E dep-
artments of hospitals for three days ?I see our fat cunt over
here is clapping http://archives.tcm.ie/breakingnews/2004/10/20/story172031.asp
her fanny-flaps by promising that nobody should have to
remain on a trolley for more than 24 hours, isn't she just
wonderful,a fuckin' saint,Joan of Arkle.

Where was I ?,oh yes the French,imagine the fun if they ever
try to introduce a smoking ban.

Super Mario

Jesus,its quiet here today and there seems to be nobody to play
with,all off doing mother's day stuff,I suppose.Thats all right as
I often use Sundays to try and learn something new about the
poxy oul' computer.

I saw one of his films yesterday,what a set of pipes he had.
he was from before your time,and mine too,but me oul'
fella,no mean Tenor himself,had a great gra for oul' Mario and
we were all dragged up listening to him.Anyway,its my blog and
I'll post what I want.

I suppose if they ever made a film about me,Mario Lanza,Buddy

Holly,Elvis and Cream would figure greatly on the soundtrack.

See,I'm not always cranky,back in character tomorrow.

Shake hands? Here,shake this.

I stopped going to mass before they brought in that horrible
part where you have to shake hands with the people around
you.On the rare occasions that I've been since I've been
looking around at the people whose hands I was going to have
to shake,watching them coughing and hocking and picking
their noses so that I'd have worked myself into a temper well
before the dreaded announcement;

Let us offer each other a sign of peace and forgiveness

and the whole congregation goes into a frenzy of hand-shaking
like New Years Eve but without the drink.All those filthy and
unhygenic hands,and thats apart from the fact that there are
very few people I wish peace upon,and even fewer that I wish
to forgive.

So anyway I had to go to a neighbour's funeral the other day,I
didn't have to,but you know what I mean.Besides I had wanted
to have a gawk at his son whom I hadn't for about 20 years
and to see if he had got any fatter,he had.He himself had been
a rotten oul' cunt all his life and I was delighted he was dead,
although I was also happy he was alive as the oul' bollocks had
spent the last ten years in a nursing home,eating them out of
house and home and selfishly refusing to die.If theres a better
place,I hope he never gets there.And the fuckin' Eulogy he
got,I was nearly going to jemmy the coffin open to see if it was
the same person I knew that they were talking about.

By the time we were due to shake hands at the funeral mass
I had worked myself into a foul mood and the only person I
shook hands with was Malicia and stared malevolently at all
others as they made shapes to shake, ugly oul' cunts.Are
Catholics the ugliest group of people in the Universe ? All
old, bent and miserable,every fuckin' one.In my younger days
there used to be a few half-decent looking wans at Mass that
you'd strain your neck gawking at but there was none at this
one.

Still the pusses on the oul' wans I wouldn't shake hands with
was something to behold and I might start going again just
to relive that pleasure.

Shower of Cunts.

Enough of this poxy navel-gazing.

Just who the fuck do they think they are ?Fuck off you shower
of utter cunts and pay for your own club,association,party or
whatever the fuck you want to call it.If I or anyone else wish
to form a club for the benefit of its members,said members
are expected,and more than willing to pay for it.What people
don't do is to bribe rich businessmen for funding or expect
other tax-payers to pay for it.What do they do with all this
money ?Apart from lining their own pockets they squander
it in a vain attempt to convince us of the brilliance of their
ideas and how much better they are than the other shower
(of cunts).

Well heres the news fuckface,there is no difference.there is
not an original thought or idea between the whole stinking
lot of you.You want to manage the country ?You couldn't
manage a good shite.If a solution to the problems in Health,
Education or the Middle East crawled under your desk and
performed Fellatio/cunnilingus on you ,you wouldn't recog-
nise it,you fucking Baboons.As a matter of fact Baboons would
be preferable,more honest,hardworking and cheaper,not to
mention,easier to train.

Then you have the sheer fucking gall to expect us to pay
for those shiny leaflets that nobody reads,the ones that
bear testimony to your lies and broken promises.Or those
stupid posters that litter the streets for months after an
election?,yes the ones with your ugly bovine heads on them.
Tell me,when was the last time one single person had
their mind changed by some arsehole on a poster? You don't
need to go to Blackpool or Brighton for your piss-ups,all you
are doing is preaching to the converted,nobody else is
interested in your lies/self-promotion/propaganda.

What you should get off the taxpayer is what you're entit-
led to and what you deserve,which is fuck-all.there should
be a limit of 500 pound put on every canditate's expendit-
ure so to eliminate any need for funding.Don't worry,in the
unlikely event that you come up with something remotely
interesting,new or clever to say,we will hear about it.The
Sun WILL print it,Jeremy Paxman or Sky News WILL tell
us,for fucks sake the Angels will sing it once they get over
the shock.

In the meantime get your precious arses off your high
horses and join the fucking real world.

Barbie Moment

I had a "Barbie"moment or moments last week when the
thought of giving up blogging seemed attractive.None of us,
except Kim perhaps ,will ever know why the great El Barbudo
decided to call it a day and I will miss his incandescent rages
and semi-pornographic meanderings.In my case I had just
become a little bored with it and it was starting to become
a chore,something to have to do.Now the surest way to stop
me from doing something is to try to force me to do it,so you
can see where my head was at.

There was also the added distraction of Cheltenham being on
and while I wasn't there phsyically,I was there in mind and
spirit and serious racing is very time-consuming.What really
effected my though and I honestly don't know why ,was the
photo's somebody posted from the Irish Blog awards.

I had been reading Twenty's Blog about him winning (fair play
to the little bollix,he thoroughly deserved them) all before him
and he mentioned some photos that were up somewhere,I can't
be arsed to look them up now,but I did then.What struck me
was how ordinary everyone looked,I don't know what I expect-
ed them to look like,but whatever it was,they weren't it.In
other words they didn't look like me,do they look like you ?
I have been accused of many things in my life but being or
looking ordinary is not one of them but those clowns are
taking ordinariness to a new level.Until a little while ago I
wasn't even aware of an Irish blogging scene,the only two I
follow are Twenty and the divinely -ankled Fatmammycat,
feeling much more at home here among the Scots,Brits and a
few Americans whose wrists aren't dragging along the ground.
Which is fine since I have very few Irish readers either so
fuck 'em,but as I say,those photos phased me.

So anyway I decided to cut back a little,or maybe to omit all
comments as this is very time-consuming also,and since I
wasn't going to allow comments,I reasoned that I would
forfeit my right to comment elsewhere,so more time saved.
Having mitched away from the blogosphere for a week,I
posted what was to be one of my last few utterings and
relaxed,having made the decision turned to read one of my
favourites,yes,Barbie,the bearded wonder.

My heart sank a little more as I read each sentence of his
farewell blog,almost misty-eyed by the end,as I realized how
much I'll miss the cunt.Then I thought how much I'd miss
all you cunts out there so fuck yis,yis are stuck with me for a
little while yet.

Enough to make your eyes Pop.

So,the six of us sat around expectantly,waiting for the start like
kids waiting for Christmas.None of us knew what the week
would bring but we were hoping for the best,prepared for the
worst but all in all,it should be a piece of piss.It was one of those
rare occasions where I had put myself completely in the hands
of others,professionals who had all the information they needed
at their fingertips and who had an excellent track- record at
this type of thing.

We each took our first shot of the day and looked at each other
as if we were kids at our first Disco.I would not say that I am
unaquainted with introducing chemicals to my carcass but
L.S.D. and Magic Mushrooms soaked in Poteen would not have
produced the effects that I now witnessed as the first two lads
collapsed to the ground pulling at their clothes while complain-
ing about the unbearable heat,followed quickly by two more
who started wailing like Banshees.

The second poor cunt was pulling lumps of his beard off as his
head got bigger and bigger and turned the colour of ripe black-
currants before both his eyes exploded and covered the room
in a disgusting gunge as he mercifully fell silent.Through
their own agony,the other three were oblivious to this as they
also turned into human blackcurrants,ready for harvesting.
I backed away from the tormented trio in expectation of more
exploding heads and bumped into a wide-eyed and horrified
male-nurse who I helped into the toilets,by the hair.

He'd already wet himself but his bowels opened when I banged
his head off the wall as his feet dangled a foot off the ground.

"What the fuck did you give us ?" but I didn't loosen my grip
on his windpipe,again

"What the fuck was it ?",this time I took one hand off his
scrawny neck and proceeded to gouge his eye while still
dangling him up to my height.

"The Government" he rasped

"What Government, you fuck?"

"They made us do it"

"Do, do fuckin' what."

"They made us give you anti-blogging serums." I gouged
more,ready to pop his eye out,

"But I think you got a placebo."

Arkle

Closed for Cheltenham

Site available to rent

apply in comments.

The Parade that died of Shame.

Once upon a time the citizens of this country used to commem-
orate those who died in the 1916 Rising by holding a parade in
Dublin on Easter Sunday.This was all harmless enough as it gave
Families something to do to celebrate the ending of the Lenten
fast and a chance to gawk at a few politicians who in those days
were considered to be respectable,honest and pillars of the
community.It also gave politicians an excuse to strut around and
preen themselves before the masses.

The last big parade was held in 1966 to mark the 50th anniv-
ersary of the Rising,there was even a new silver 10 shilling piece
minted to mark the occasion.












That was all before the I.R.A. started their murderous campaign
and hi-jacked the parade along with our language and flag.The
Government ceased sponsering the activities at Easter and the
parade was no more.People became too embarassed to go to
Ballad sessions as some of the songs would have Republican ideals
in the lyrics.Where before it was all part of a good night out to
have a sing-song regaling the sanguine sacrifices of a few mis-
guided patriots,now it became distasteful.

People honestly tried to speak the cupla fochail of the Irish lan-
guage in the brave new Ireland of the 60s until the slaughter,
then only the pretentious and the rabid Republicans wanted to
use it.

Despite the fact that the Rising was a failure,that the partici-
pants were jeered by Dubliners on their capture,it still has a
pivotal place in the Irish disposition and always will.

Now that the leaders of the baby-killers have become Armani
wearing would-be Statesmen and because our Government
wish to take our minds off their crookedness and ineptidude,
we are going to witness a sprint along O'Connell street to the
G.P.O. by politicians from official Ireland and Sinn Fein in
an unseemly race to see who represents Republicanism the
most (or should that be the worst) in this year's renewal.

My part in his downfall.

In those days the talk always turned to the war and THEIR
part in it.Strangely enough,I never came across any ordinary
seamen or soldiers,every one of themseemed to have been
Sergeants or Corporals,at the very least.I.E.

My platoon was surrounded on all sides by the Jerries,the food
was gone,there was no water and we'd no ammo for the .303s
or the Bren-guns, and I was the worse off because I had a Bren-
gun and a .303. ???

Mind you my Doubting-Thomas instinct got me into trouble
on one occasion when I burst out laughing on being told by
my companion that he had been a stoker on a Submarine,only
to find out that there was such a position.

The funniest story was that during the war,most of the
Trawlers were commandeered by the navy as mine-sweepers
with their Skippers given the rank of Liutenant and various
positions allocated to deck-hands.On one occasion a Deck-hand
was doing sentry duty on Hull docks on a cold foggy night.A
Royal Navy officer was returning to his ship and said to his
fellow-officer,

"Lets test this sentry.",and when he made a scuffling sound
a voice called out of the fog,

"Halt,who goes there,friend or foe ?"

"Foe "

"If you're goin' to muck about like that,I'm goin' home."

In ten minutes I'm going to have sex with a Man.

Try as I might,I could not get my head around this,
there was no other way to look at it.
To explain the position I found myself in we have to travel
back two months to the start of my trip,to the begining of my
career as a deep-sea fisherman.

The money for a deck-hand was better on the factory-ships
than on the normal trawlers,so after the scandal,I signed up
for a three month trip to fish off Iceland on the m.f.v.Vaguely
Noble.Fuck me,that was some rude awakening for a young
Paddy who thought he'd seen it all. The crew,mostly York-
shiremen were amiable enough and I found their dry sense of
humour to be similar to that of Dubliners.My main problems
were lack of alcohol which was completely forbidden aboard
the ship (never say boat,it pisses them off) and lack of sex
(with another person).

After a month at sea it got to me so bad that I went to see
the master and commander of all our destinies,the most
powerful person in our universe,our Skipper.

"Skipper,you'll have to air-lift me off,I'm going bananas here."

"Whats the problem,Paddy?"

"I'm gummin' for a ride,is the problem."

"Have you tried wanki...?"

"Of course I've tried wanking.",I snapped

"And you've had the mags and seen the films ?", a trawler
in those days was awash with porno books and films.

"Not worth a fuck,you have to send me back."

"Theres one other thing,I can fix you up with Wang,the
Chinese cook."

"You must be fuckin' joking."

"No joke" he said "and no one need know a thing about
it but you,me and Wang."

"Bollocks to that,I'm not in to that kind of thing."

"Its up to you,but nobody would know a thing.Anyway,the
weathers turning so a chopper can't get near us for at least
a week."

I suffered on for another week,feeling more light-headed
and becoming more bad-tempered every day.Abstinance
must have been bred into the others as they seemed happy
enough with their well-thumbed magsand watching the
"Super 8s" in the galley,but it had the opposite effect on
me and again I went to the Skipper.

"You've got to get me off,Skipper,me cock's eating the leg
off me and I'm getting dizzy spells."

"In case you hadn't fucking noticed,theres a fuckin' hurricane
out there and theres no chance of getting you away."

"I swear to fuck I'll jump over the wall and pay myself
away.(Trawler-speak for drowning yourself)

"No need to talk like that Paddy,have you thought about
Wang ?"

"I told you,I'm not into that kind of thing."

"No one need ever know,I tell you what,give it a try and if
you still need to go,I'll drop you into Reykjavik myself."

"I'm not into that kind of thing,but I'll think about it."

Which is where my story began and having made the
decision went up to see the Skipper again.

"And no one will ever know ?"

"Not a sinner,just you ,me,Wang and the other three."

"What other three ?"

"The three that'll be holding Wang,hes not into that kind
of thing either."

All I'm saying is......

Today is International Women's day.

International Women's Day is the universal day that connects all womenaround the world and inspires them to achieve their full potential. IWD 2006 launches another year of working progressively for women's equality worldwide. It is an important day around the world because the collective power of women is witnessed by milions, and the brave achievements of women past, present and future are respectfully honoured. International Women's Day 2006 will be celebrated globally on Wednesday 8 March. Join the action !!The IWD global register of events is provided for all women's organisationsby Aurora with the support of HSBC the world's local bank

It is also National Stop Smoking day.


http://www.nosmokingday.org.uk/

Now if only............................

Two abreast me bollix !

Now that the Ice-age is over for another year we must gird
ourselves for the first signs of that most objectionable of
creatures,the road cyclist.
These boney-arsed cunts will be out clogging up the high-ways
and by-ways before you have a chance to get a gulp of Spring
air,the selfish Lycra-clad bastards.
What road-tax do these cunts pay ?None,the sanctimonious
fuckers,yet they cycle around,15 abreast,as if they owned
the fuckin' roads.
If you knock one of the cunts down you're the worst in the
world,you can't even beep at them or they glare at you
enough to give you cancer.If you make obscene gestures at
them and give them the swivel-finger,as sure as fuck there'll
be a hold-up ahead and a swarm of the cunts'll get you.You
wouldn't mind taking a few of them on but they're as fit as
fuck,even the decrepit-looking oul' bastards are.

I reckon you should get bonus points on your licence for
wingin' the cunts,that'd thin them out.

Diver's Tongues

Fuck me,Barney is gone multi-lingual.

Bloody little Cur.

Not that I give two fucks what the lady in question was up to
or not up to,but I was delighted to see the phrase being used.
http://www.thesun.co.uk/article/0,,2-2006100346,,00.html
Lord knows there are enough Brazen Hussies about these days
but nobody appears to describe them as such.It is such a
wonderful description, it roles off the tongue so delightfully
and yet leaves no room for error in its intended use.

Older readers hear will have often heard the term used,but
even the younger ones among you,if you close your eyes and
hiss it, can picture the delighted venom with which it might
have been used by gossiping neighbours in a small village.
For the recipient there would be no way back from being
branded a Brazen Hussy,she would stay one for ever more.

Other terms used by my parents but not heard so much these
days (except by me sometimes) and require little explaination;

Dirty oul' melt,

Bloody little Cur, or worse ,Curan (Curawn = young Cur)

Go-be-the-wall,

and the GALL of yer wan.

All relatively harmless but delivered with the right amount
of venom there was no need for additives like fucks and
cunts to get their message across.

Quick! Anyone got a Pen ?

Having gotten that last post off my chest I think we know each
other a bit better and now I feel its time our relationship moved
on to a new level.I'm going to let the defences down a little more
and tell you about a life-long secret ambition of mine,I have
been fascinated by the idea and determined to do one ever since
I heard of it.

Heres the thing,if and when we ever meet,never faint or collapse
in any way in my company or Ill cut a hole in your Windpipe
before anyone else has a chance to loosen your collar.You see I
always carry my razor-sharp knife everywhere for the sole
purpose of carrying out a Tracheotomy,not that I'm remotely
interested in saving a stranger's life or anything like that,I just
want to phsyically do it.

Two years ago I nearly got jail over it when a last minute
change of mind led me to wear a jacket I had previously
packed when travelling to Manchester.As soon as I walked
through security I remembered what was in my pocket.All
my bullshittin' came to no avail and now some security-cunt
at Dublin airport has my beautiful Lock-knife.However it has
since been replaced,at great expence,by a better one with
which you could actually shave yourself.

For the very reason that I carry my Knife,I never intention-
ally carry a pen,although my pockets always seem to have
at least two of those 1/2 pens you get in the Bookies.I
hate taking those fuckin' pens as I consider it bad luck to
steal them (not that I get much good luck if I don't) from
the shop.Funny thing about those 1/2 pens,even people
who have never darkened the door of a Bookie's have a
drawer-ful of the little bastards.Same as fish-boxes,is there
a garden in the world that hasn't got at least one of those
plastic fish-boxes in it ?

So anyway,having cut the hole in your victim's (?) Trachea,
you have to plead anxiously to the fascinated on-lookers,

"For the love of God,has anyone got a pen ?" and

"For fuck sake,move back and let the man get some air."

Then grabbing the pen,break the top off it and plunge it
with a flourish into the gurgling Windpipe.Fuckin' deadly,
and even if the cunt dies there are enough witnesses to
say that you performed heroics trying to save him.How
were you to know the cunt was Epileptic?

The Ultimate Sulk ?

The very concept of suicide that is so contemptable,abhorrent and
incomprehensible to friends,family and casual observers can also
describe the circumstance in which the suicidal finds himself.We
all know that suicide is a selfish and cowardly act,made all the
more despicable because of the effect it has on the bereaved,but
then we are not suicidal.Before you judge/condemn a suicide you
should be eternally grateful that you will never have to experience
the lung-bursting,soul-destroying pressure of drowning in a sea
of utter despair,of knowing that there is absolutely nothing you
can do to alleviate your problems except for that one final sol-
ution.Can you imagine what it is like to know,with complete
certainty that your family will be far better off without you ?

For those left behind there is only sadness,anger and guilt in
every proportion.Sadness for the loss of a loved one,anger that
he fucked off and left them behind with a mountain of shit and
guilt that he did not turn to them for help.But what suicide is
going to burden a loved one with problems so horrific and
insurmountable that he himself cannot handle ?Would you ex-
pect a terminal-cancer sufferer to want to share it with his wife
or children ?Would you ? Of course not,you would try to spare
them at all costs.The only possible solution is staring you in
the face,you must do it and not out of self-pity or just to show
them,but to spare them and protect them from the horrors,
lest they experience a fraction of what its like.

People have often remarked that such and such who has just
committed suicide must have gone through Hell in those last
few days but the opposite is true.The actual deed only takes
a few seconds,its the weeks and months leading up to the
decision to do it that is the Hell.Once the decision to go has
been made there an immediate feeling of release,all pressure
off.You are elated to know that soon your troubles will be
over,they can't get you anymore and a calmness and serenity
take the place of all the shit that went before.

Then you just do it.


Update 28/2/06 11.50 A.M.

I want to apologise for getting something off my chest that
has been there for many years while selfishly not allowing
others to comment even though they have a need to do so.

Again I stress that I do not advocate suicide but was trying
to point out that a suicide cannot see his selfishness,is blind
to reason and genuinely believes the world would be better
off without him.

Great Minds.............

http://uk.news.yahoo.com/24022006/80-132/colombian-sentenced-ride-bottom-slap.html You know you've been married too long when something
like this happens.I had forgotten all about the incident until I read
about the unfortunate Colombian.I have never,before or since,
pawed,stroked or slapped a strangers arse but on this warm
Summer afternoon myself and the mot were driving through some
heavy traffic.The cars were moving yery slowlywhen I noticed,
about three car-lengths in front,standing on a narrow traffic-island,
a really attractive ,shapely young woman wearing a micro-skirt.I
can't say what I was going to actually do but as I rolled down the
window,Malicia hissed;

"Don't even think about it."

She knew what I was thinking about even before I thought it.

Q.E.D.

Now I could never be accused of overburdening myself with

the troubles of others,as a matter of fact,were my surname to

be the same as a certain Jewish Psychoanalysist,my first name

would be Schaden,as I am more than likely to take an unseemly

pleasure out of said misfortunes.However,the present spot of

bother that we in the West are experiencing with our Muslim

brethren can so easily be sorted that I feel the necessity to

forward the solution,especially as there could be a drink in

it for me.

If the Muslims still want the Cartoonist's heads,we'll give them

heads,after all,we all look the same to them,and very few

people know what they look like anyway.All it takes is for

the Editor of that Danish Newspaper to announce that his

Cartoonists have gone missing,and after a few days, some

likely character (heres where I come in) gets in touch with

the head Buck-cat Muslim and offers him the required

number of heads,simple.It needn't even cost the Govern-

ments any money as I would try to cover my expences

with the million Dollars bounty.I'm sure Footsie could

provide me with a few heads,He'll have one shortly if the

Judge has anything to do with it.

The only drawback I can find is that I may have to shed

my anonymity when I collect my Nobel Peace prize.

Q.E.D.

Consolation

After churning many a stomach with the picture of the ugly
little bollix on my last posting,I hereby counterbalance it
with a gratuitous picture of Salman Rushdie's mot,the ex-
model Padma Lakshmi.

When asked why she married the multi-millionaire author,
Miss Padma replied;..........

What happens on tour.......

A (Small) number of commenters I respect suggested that I
left my last post a little up in the air but my reasons for doing
so were twofold.Firstly the prime law of Piss-Artistry states
unequivocally that what happens on tour,stays on tour.This
is to protect the innocent and also to insure that the Spouses/
partners never find out what we've been up to.Secondly,and
more importantly,there is the money,in the shape of a book
deal.

Halfway through Ahmed's (that is his first name and the
the one he prefers his friends call him ) fine single Malt, It
occurred to us,as it did to my astute blogging friends, that
a meeting of our two great cultures should not go un-
recorded.It was just the small things about each other that
fascinated us,e.g.,who would have guessed that Ahmed would
know all the words (and actions ) of "Fields of Athenry ",
while he was mesmerised when I told him that following a
bowel-movement,I always finished wiping myself with pink
Johnson's Baby Lotion( we covered a lot of topics during
the course of our six-hour bender).

Despite Ahmet's urgings,I ruled out a Joint-authorship deal
as I figured(although I didn't tell him this) there was no
point in having a baying mob of mad Mullahs after both
of us,besides,he wanted to do an arty-farty Salmanesque
type novel while I favoured publishing a more humourous
account of the meeting.What most people don't realise is
that the great author is just a glorified blogger who,having
received 21 comments for a particular post,expects at least
that number for every subsequent post,similarly,having
won the booker prize,constantly craves another,never
again to be satisfied by selling 100,000 copies and receiving
great critical reviews.I,on the other hand,simply wanted to
sell a rake of bukes and end up with a spectacular film deal.

I'm sure you will understand my reticence regarding the
above as the subject is still under discussion by both our
agents but if talks flounder,as seems likely at the moment,
you can expect further disclosures here,exclusively.

Muslims are just a shower of Chancers.

Well the first thing you'd have to do would be to find out what
their day-jobs were,I mean people who can't draw and have a
sense of humour any Muslim would be proud of (None),cannot
possibly be full-time cartoonists.Then,having tracked them
down and despatched them by whatever means your mood
took you,having hacked their heads off,wrapped each head
individually in cling-film and plastic and deposited them in
your freezer,then what ?There you are with five heads in your
freezer along with all the other stuff that shouldn't be there,
you could get into real trouble if they caught you with all
that Venison,not to mention that Slaney Salmon you've no
business having.Who do you see about collecting the Bounty?

You can't just go knocking on the door of the Pakistani
Embassy and ask to see the..... .Who would you ask for ?

"May I help you? "

"I want to see yer man."

"What man ?"

"You know yourself,yer MAN.",you winking theatrically.

"What man are you talking about,is there something wrong
with your eye ? "

"Stick him up your arse,ya little bollix."

Clint Eastwood never had that problem when he brought in
a shit-load of bodies for the reward.There he'd arrive in
some shit-hole of a town,all the inhabitant's without a pot
to piss in between them,and the Sheriff peels Thousands
of dollars off a roll of notes he keeps just for that purpose.

The Muslims are just a shower of Chancers because they
think nobody will kill the "Cartoonists" and even if they
did their money would be safe due to the difficulty in
collecting it.Anyone can offer any amount of money if you
know you will never have to pay out,its high time some-
body called their bluff.

I had the very same problem that time I had Salman Rushdie
cornered a few years ago.I had been stalking the sleepy-eyed
little cunt for weeks and finally caught up with him in Hessle,
a small town just outside Hull.His body-guards were sleeping,
with the aid of a pair of Roofies in their coffee and I had him
to myself,deciding whether to use my knife or bare hands.He
deserved to die just for being an ugly little bastard and for
the torment he caused me when I read a chapter of his poxy
oul' book,but this was purely for the money.For a million
pounds I'd bite his fuckin' head off his shoulders and walk to
Iran,carrying his dripping features in a Tesco bag.

In all fairness to him he showed more composure than I would
have,under the same circumstances,but I did notice that his
eyes were more saucer-like than in any of his photographs
I had studied.He said,matter-of -factly and with an air of
resignation,

"You are going to kill me ?" I nodded.

"What do you hope to gain by my death ?"

"A million pounds."

"Ah,I see, a bounty hunter."

"I suppose so,if you put it like that."

"From whom do you propose to collect this money ?"

"The Muslims."

"Which Muslims ?"

"Any fuckin' Muslim,they all hate you.",but he had sowed the
first seeds of doubt in my mind.

"If you go to the wrong person you're likely to be beheaded
yourself."

"Still,some fucker'll pay money for your head.",and I took
a step towards him.

"I,on the other hand, can guarantee you have a successful
outcome to this,shall we say,adventure."

"How much success are we talking about here ?"

"What would you like to drink while we discuss your success."

Which is how myself and me oul' pal Salman ended up in
the horrors and next day found me with six thousand,
Sterling,in my pocket,along with twenty Kruggerands.

Having it Both Ways

I'm all for free speech but ....................


YOU can't have it.

YOU don't deserve it.

YOU are wrong.

YOU might waste it.

YOU might say something I don't agree with.

YOU might say things I don't want to hear.

YOU might tell the truth.

Tetchy

We all thought the oul' Muslims were a bit tetchy last week
after the kerfuffle they kicked up over a few cartoons,too
little to worry about,thats their problem.Now I read that
historian? David Irving is facing ten years in an Austrian
prison for Holocaust Denial.Hes not even denying it ever
happened,just that there has been exaggerations for
political purposes.
Latest News
January 10, 2006
MR Irving remains incarcerated in a Viennese prison pending trial on February 20 for "offences" of a kind unknown in English law or truly democratic societies.
To date, Mr Irving - never idle ever diligent no matter adversity - has hand-written 600 pages of memoirs, "Irving's War". He has received "156 letters from anonymous Austrians and Germans who are thinking what they are denied the freedom of speech to say". What kind of truth is so weak that it must imprison reasoning skeptics who dare to question it?
Professor Deborah Lipstadt the self-described "dragon-slayer" (though she refused to face the dragon/witness stand in 2000 in London's High Court) pleads: "Let him go and let him fade from everyone's radar screens". [BBC News January 4, 2006]
http://www.unison.ie/search/frame_search.php3?span=web&words=David%20Irvine

But ten years for maybe or maybe not exposing a few
fibs,now who's tetchy ?My own belief is..... No we won't go
there today.All I'm saying is there seems to be a
suspiciously high number of survivors still tottering
about who are dragged out every time the subject is
up for discussion.

David's cousin,Miley Irving,is in fierce trouble over here,but
I'll easily squezze a post out him in the future.

Highway to Heaven

Following a request from the exececutive officers of giant
American corporation,Halliburton,a Synod of Bishops recently
held a forum at the Vatican to discuss the Seven Deadly Sins.
Flushed with success since their manufacture of a gargantuan
needle,the eye of which a Camel could easily pass through,
the executives sought means by which the apparent impediment
of their paths to eternal salvation might be removed.

The Synod was convened and presided over by Bishop John
Paul McNamara of Chicago who scoured the World for
suitable Bishops before announcing the names of the other
fourteen American Theologians. They discussed the Church's
teachings on the Sins,their opposite Virtues and the punishment
for said Sins.






The Roman Catholic church recognises the seven virtues as opposites to the seven sins.


Sin Virtue
Lust (undesired love) Chastity (Purity )

Gluttony (overindulgence) Moderation (self-restraint )

Greed (avarice) Generosity (vigilance )

Sloth (laziness) Zeal (integrity )

Wrath (anger) Meekness (composure )

Envy (jealousy) Charity (giving )

Pride (vanity) Humility (humbleness )



The Punishments
Lust: Smothered in brimstone and fire
Gluttony: Force-fed rats, toads, and snakes
Greed: Boiled in oil
Sloth: Thrown into a snake pit
Wrath: Dismembered alive
Envy: Put in freezing water
Pride: Broken on the wheel
Similar punishments are imagined in Dante's Inferno



Lust (Latin, luxuria) (fornication, perversion) —Obsessive, unlawful, or unnatural sexual desire, such as desiring sex with a person outside marriage or engaging in unnatural sexual appetites, or depraved thought and unwholesome morality. (Dante's criterion was "excessive love of others," thereby detracting from the love due to God). Associated with the cow and the color blue.

The Synod decided that man's nature inclines him towards
Lustful deeds and he cannot therefore be held responsible
for Lustful thoughts or actions.These deeds are also held to
be compatable with love for one's spouse and love for God.


Gluttony (Latin, gula) (waste, overindulgence) —Thoughtlessness and waste of everything, especially food, drink, or intoxicants. Marked by overindulgence, misplaced sensuality, and depriving of others ("excessive love of pleasure" was Dante's rendering). Associated with pigs and the color orange.

The Synod felt that the rule of "I you've got it,flaunt it."
should supercede Church law here as truly successful
men should flaunt their wealth to encourage others to
attain the same,the better to improve their own donations
to Mother Church.


Greed (Latin, avaritia) (covetousness, avarice) —A desire to gain more than one has need or use for, in money or power. Associated with the frog and the color yellow.


Greed is not good,neither is it bad,declared the Bishops who
jointly pleaded the Fifth Amendment here for fear of
incriminating themselves and the Church.


Sloth (Latin, acedia) (laziness, indifference) —Laziness; idleness and wastefulness of time allotted. Laziness is condemned because others must work harder to make up and you are abandoning the will of God. It, like gluttony, is a sin of waste, for it wastes time.

When a person works hard all week he is entitled to
relax in any manner he sees fit,is the stance taken by
the Bishops,be it fishing ,shooting,golf or whatever.The
fact that these relaxations may seem wasteful or idle
to some spouses is beside the point and do not make
them Sinful.


Wrath (Latin, ira) (anger, hatred) —Inappropriate (unrighteous) feelings of hatred, revenge, or even denial, as well as punitive desires outside of justice (Dante's description was "love of justice perverted to revenge and spite")]. Associated with the bear and the color red.


The Bishops felt that Wrath only became a problem if
used for selfish purposes.If,on the other hand,the Wrath-
giver genuinely believed himself to be doing the will of
God,i.e. inflicting retribution on Heathens and other non-
Christians,the Synod would have no problem with this.


Envy (Latin, invidia) (jealousy, malice) —Resentment of material or spiritual possessions of others. (Dante: "Love of one's own good perverted to a desire to deprive other men of theirs"). Associated with the dog, and the color green.


A good dose of Envy was felt to be harmless enough by
the Bishops,even mild doses of Jealousy was all right.If
another Country happened to have,say,more oil than
they could ever use,it would be perfectly acceptable to
say,"Gosh,I wish we had control of that oil."If the side-
effect of some action you took left you in control of
said oil ?Then Envy would not have effected the outcome,
would it ?


Pride (Latin, superbia) (vanity, narcissism) —A desire to be important or attractive to others or excessive love of self (holding self out of proper position toward God or fellow man; Dante's definition was "love of self perverted to hatred and contempt for one's neighbor"). In Jacob Bidermann's mediaeval miracle play Cenodoxus, superbia is the deadliest of all the sins, and leads directly to the damnation of the famed Doctor of Paris, Cenodoxus. Associated with the horse, and the color violet.


This, being the worst of the seven Sins,presented the Synod
with the greatest problem.In the end they reasoned that as
they themselves felt joyous pride at their position in the
one true Religion and knowing without any doubt
whatsoever that the God they worshipped was the One
TRUE God,they could not in all honesty,condemn others
to eternal damnation for being proud of running the
biggest Corporation in the World.It is also no longer a sin to
be proud of being the leader of or of being a Congressman in
what you know to be the greatest Country in the World.

Bishop McNamara issued the following Edict;

As and from 1/1/06 the Sins previously known as the
Seven Deadly Sins are to be downgraded to Venial Sins
and under no circumstances are Priests to be bothered with
them during Confession.



Postscript;

On 9/1/06 John Paul McNamara and thirteen of the
Bishops left the Priesthood and took up directorships in
the Halliburton Corporation.The other Bishop,Luis Garcia
Quinn is widely touted as the next Pope when the present
incumbent dies suddenly,his death to be announced next June.