Rather than reply to the thoughtful and incisive comments
after yesterdays post,I have sneakily decided to chance
another post out of the subject.In truth I was rather
surprised to find that I am not the only one to spend time
wondering who or what our fellow bloggers may be,and
feeling apprehensive and less than confidant of wherever
the realities lie. I suppose we are all somewhat like small
children wanting to believe in Santa against all the odds
and available evidence,in hoping and wanting our
favourites to be somewhere close or at least in the same
parish as who we imagine them to be.
Even in real life none of us see ourselves as others see
us,how else can you explain Janet Street-Porter and
Jonathan Ross,two,to put it mildly,rather plain people
with annoying speech impediments.One would have
thought that they would have taken one look in the mirror,
or had one listen to themselves on tape and said fuck it,I'll
just stay in the background.Look at them now,the cunts
don't doubt themselves for a minute.I used to take the
occasional order on the phone and one young lady always
asked for me to take her order.We used to have a bit of
skit along the way and she had a really nice and friendly
voice,sort of low and purring and breathless.As time went
by our conversations became more flirty and filled with
double-meanings until one day my driver didn't turn up
and I had to do the deliveries myself and I would be
lying if I said that I wasn't looking forward to meeting my
flirt-mate.My excitement mounted as I carried her goods
through the doors as I anticipated seeing her for the first
time.Words cannot describe the disappointment and
feelings of deflation I saw on that that young womans face.
It thought me a fuckin' good lesson,I can tell you.
So precisely because we will never meet and therefore
can never be proved wrong,I'll go first in describing the
select few.We'll do the wimin first only because they'll be
the easiest in our imaginations and also because we all know
that ladies do not fib,exaggerate or behave in a dishonest
manner,ever.Also because the alternative would be too
unbearable to contemplate as we have all fallen in love,
to a greater or lesser degree,with Lindy,Andraste,Fat-
mammycat ,Just Breathe and the sexy one,We'll take
them at face value,give them a few tweaks and twiddles
in our fertile imaginations and let the hare sit.
Dr. Maroon,ah the good doctor,I have him down as a cross
between Sean Connery and that little fellow out of four
weddings,only more charming and of course far more
intelligent.
I'm including Twenty here as well even though he has
never shown any interest in our community but his
was the first blog I ever read.I'd imagine him to be
a yuppy journalist living in luxury on the South-side
of Dublin,possibly Foxrock.He is in his mid-thirties
and has never been in a row in his life,other than
when he was being bullied at school.
Nice Charlie is normally nice when things run
smoothly but he shows a nice little bit of vitriol
when its warranted.
Wouldn't you just love to go on the piss with Footsie,
Brewski and Binty but at this stage I'd have to raid
a chemist for their entire stock of Dexedrine just to
last the night with the mad cunts,just reading their
blogs wear me out.
We'll have to include Barbie here because even though
he doesn't drink he doesn't need to as hes mad as
fuck without it and also theres a new side to him I'm
only beginning to appreciate as he alluded to his
partiality to substances today so theres room for
manouvre there,so Barbie you're driving.
Joke Mail I love like a brother but never lets his
essence slip,so the jury has to stay out for the
moment.
Gorilla Bananas is more of a voice for me,he is my
conscience,the one I never wanted.His voice is the
voice of Lion King's father ,deep, kind and honest.
This brings us to that mad fucker,Dr.Evil.Ian
Flemming should be resurrected just to include
him as a foil for Mr.Bond.We may or maybe not
related but if we are,stay the fuck away from him
'cause he has to be a horrible bollix.
I'm sorry if I've left anyone out but I'm fed up
typing this and it was only supposed to be a short
and handy post anyway.
Wednesday, January 11, 2006
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
16 comments:
Hey Bro! You're a lot funnier than my real brother, so I'm happy to have you as a virtual one!
5.45pm and just finished work so off for a bit of a thursday night bevvy.... If you can't join me AB I'll be raising a glass to you anyway! In fact, I'll raise one to each and every one of you... you mad, sad, funny old buch of gits!
Also, sometimes we girls just like to flirt and talk - if you meet us you just want to skip that part and get straight down to fucking us.
sexybeauty is right! Speed is of the essence. There's plenty time for all that stuff afterwards, in between the celebratory nightcap and falling asleep.
I always thought that talking to a woman and getting her drunk WAS foreplay.
i haven't checked all these blogs yet but going to now. brewski has been away for a day or so. must be nursing a hangover
You're a good fellow, AB, but isn't it a bit soon to be getting sentimental? I've only been blogging for 6 months, which is longer than most of those you've mentioned.
BTW, Dr Maroon hates Sean Connery and I hate lions. One of my early posts described them as the 'biggest bastards in Africa'.
Uncanny, I have to say. Apart from the age, employment, location and I have the scars on my knuckles to disprove the row thing too. I was bullied in school though until I, as a 6th year lad, took those 4th class ruffians to task.
I'll see you in Muligans one day to show you my wounds.
And I'd always pictured Maroon like the lead singer of Big Country except less corpsey.
I agree with AB that Doc M comes over very Simon Callow (I assume you meant him from 4 Weds). As for Twenty I always imagined him as a woolly-hat-wearing, white-bearded old fella. Can't think why...
G.B.whats sentimental about wondering about to whom it is you are talking or listening to ?I said I pictured you with the VOICE of a nice bastard lion.
Twenty,maybe,maybe not,but at least it got you out of the house,
anyway it'll be interesting to see if you can prove me wrong.
Simon Callow the gayer? You cheeky bastard!
Doc M, at least I did say Simon Callow.... I had a sudden panick attack on the bus home last night wondering if I had typed 'Simon Cowell' by mistake.... Seriously! Would have looked even more like a right twat!
"Simon Callow the gayer? You cheeky bastard!"
I thought he meant that other insipid little cunt who was in that one with the Mummies and Egypt and stuff.
The gayer is a much better option despite the fact he's got the gay real bad.
I sound like the cunt right enough, but the bow-ties and fancy weskits, fuck please no. The other one's as bad, reading out that gayer poem in the church, "with muffled drum (or bell)...no more bumming for me..."
He got the Renault advert on the strength of that. Jammy bastard.
Strangely enough it was the insipid one I had in mind but in retrospect perhaps Simon Callow might fit the bill better.I did like him in "Chance in a million."
Post a Comment