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.

Caught by the Short n' Curlies.

Valentine's Day me bollix.

Valentine's day has been cancelled in our house due to lack of
romance,and all other forms of communication.Suffice to say
the atmosphere is so cold that you could hang meat there.Now
having spent the best years of my life in the dog-house,this
is not unknown territory for me but on this occasion the fault
lies not with me.

The Weekend had started off pleasantly enough when my
present wife,Malicia,invited her cousin Carol and her husband
out for the Saturday to celibrate my Birthday and we were
to go out for nose-bag on the Saturday night.All went fine
and dandy through the afternoon when we went out for a
few bevvies,watched the match and backed a few
losers,nothing extraordinary,so far so good.At around 5 bells
we headed back to our house to freshen-up and get ready
for the night out.

Malicia was arsing around in the kitchen,Carol and Jim were
watching telly when I went upstairs to take a shower.So
there I was,lathered-up and cleaning myself in a mild and
inoffensive manner,singing a light-hearted ditty,

"Innn me prison cell I sit,with me finger dipped in shitttt

and the shadow of me bollix on the waaalllllll",

when the lovely Carol eased the shower-curtain open a
little and smiling in at me purred sugestively,

"I have a special Birthday treat for you.......",

and a hand reached in and cupped my lathered Town-Halls.

Well holy gee,the hundred thoughts,all unprintable,that
flashed through my mind were interupted by hysterical
giggling from outside the curtains.

Malicia and Carol,doubled up laughing,with Malicia
wiping the soap from her hand,pair of bitches.

"If you could've seen your face,Barney",chortled Carol.

"I knew it was you",I spluttered to Malicia.

Like lots of things in my life,it all ended in tears.The next
morning,in the cold sober light of Malicia's day,

"You would've too,you dirty bastard "

"I didn't do anything "

"You didn't try to stop her,you dirty oul' melt "

"But but but "


Move over Glark.

Speak no Evil.

Rory was a larger than life character,always good humoured,
full of fun and ever the optimist.We met when he came to live
in our area and we got on like a house on fire through our
mutual love of guzzling food and drink and our fondness for
horseracing and hunting.If a new restaurant opened anywhere
in the "Pale ",we just had to give it a try out,often spending
200 pounds on a meal for four,a shitload of money in the late
70s.I've often said we were never Millionaires,but by fuck we
lived like we were,we had a fuckin' ball in those days.We both
owned our own businesses at the time and while I because of
working 16/18 hours a day could just about afford our life-
style,Rory was somewhat different.

Rory was what was known as a loveable rogue,big smile,loud
laugh and always a great story to tell (Could use him here most
days ) and he could charm the birds out of the sky but he had
one fatal flaw,he never even tried to live within his means.He
and his family took two holidays a year along with several
long weekends,and both always drove decent cars.Rory was
also one of the best liars I have ever come across and could
quite easily have lied for Ireland,had there been an Olympic
competition for liars.Ireland was a big place in those days
because of no c.c.t.v.s or central computers and he was the
scourge of bank-managers up and down the country and was
a master of the art of Kite flying**,often having up to fifteen
different cheque-books on the go at once.His wife was as bad
as him and I often heard her say;

"Go out and cash an oul' cheque and we'll head off for the
Weekend."

As the possee closed in Rory became more desperate and
started bouncing cheques locally,where he had previously
kept his nose clean.He ended owing money to every trader
in town and plenty of individuals as well.The final straw was
him stroking a mutual friend,a pensioner who had just
received compensation for an accident,Rory did the poor
oul' cunt out of a Grand,end of story between us.I kissed
the money he owed me,about 2 Grand,goodbye,and put
it down to experience and anyway,the ride had been well
worth it.

Shortly after that the Banks reposessed Rory's house and
a short time later his wife fucked him out and he disappeared,
dipping beneath the radar for a couple of years.There were
plenty of sightings,

"You'll never guess who I saw in Manchester "

or

"I had a drink with your old mate in Galway last month,he
was asking for you "

Came the mid-Eighties and businesses ,including mine,were
closing down like it was going out of fashion due to the
re-fuckin'-session.Money was as scarse as hen's teeth and
the last thing we needed was a call from friend Rory.The
Fraud-squad had arrested him and he was asking/begging
me to bail him.

"How much will it be ?",thinking it would be a few hundred.

"Definately no more than 3 Grand."

"You're fuckin' joking,who'd you kill ?"

"Nobody,just a few cheques."

"Leave it with me "

I should have told him to fuck off,but there was still a little
history between us,and the poor cunt sounded desperate.
Mrs. Barney was a different story,she went into melt-
down, and she didn't know a fraction of what he had owed
me.

"If you give that Bastard another penny you needn't come
back here"

To tell you the truth it wasn't much of a dilemma because
if it was a question of a few hundred and I knew where he
lived,I could Bail him and phsyically drag him to Court If
I had to,but not knowing this and sure that he would do a
runner left me an easy choice.He rang again about 3 weeks
before the Trial to see if I was coming to court ,I said I
would,and I did.

The Prosecuting Lawyer took about 10 minutes to read
out all the charges,Fraudulently presenting cheques up and
down the Country and some in Germany which were the
real killers,and numerous other charges,including failing
to appear on several occasions,enough to make your hair
stand on end.The Gardai asked for the case to be put
back for three weeks and not surprisingly strenuously
objected to bail.The oul' bollocks of a Judge set Bail at
4 Thousand Punts and asked if there was a Bailsman
present.Rory's Solicitor stood up,

"I believe theres a Mr. Barney in court to act as Bailsman"

"Can you come to the Witness box please,Mr. Barney ?"
asked the Judge.


"Whats your name,etc.,etc."

"Did you bring a Bankers Draft to the Court with you ?"

"No, your Honour."

"Cash ? "

"No, your Honour."

"Well do you own your own Business ?"

"No, your Honour."

He looked at Rory,he looked at each Solicitor in turn,he
looked at the Detective and looked at me,

"Would you mind telling the Court,Mr. Barney,what
exactly you are doing here ?"

"Well your Honour,the last time I was given Bail,I only
had to sign something (true) to get myself released and
I assumed the same would apply here."

"Thank you Mr. Barney,you may leave the Witness box."



Postscript:

I met Rory about three years later,

"You're some bollix."

"What do you mean ?"

"You didn't Bail me,I had to do two years "

"I thought you'd get someone else "

"Who the fuck would bail me ?"

"Exactly "

I don't know whether he did actually do two years as he was
such a liar,but if he did,it seemed fair enough to me for all
the money he embezzled over the years.


* The Pale; When Ireland was part of the British Empire,
an area comprising of Dublin city and county,parts of
Kildare and a part of North Wicklow as far south as Bray was
more heavily protected than the rest of the Country and in
maps of the time this safer area was shown as a lighter
colour.From this comes the saying "Beyond the Pale ".We
generally only use the term "The Pale " nowadays for
Slagging and Banter.

** Kite flying ; Then as now,cheques (kites) took 5 days to
clear but the difference was that you could draw on the cheque
as soon as you lodged it,and if you knew the cheque was dodgy
you would lodge a different one on the fifth day.In theory you
could have made yourself out to be a millionaire (on paper) by
this practise,known as "Flying a Kite ".Nowadays this is not
possible as Banks will not allow you to draw on a Kite until
it has been cleared. Just one of the reasons they were called
"the good old days."

"

I've always wondered.

With sincerest apologies to anyone who had to ware them and
to relatives of those brave men who died waring these helmets
I wish to comment on the tommy-helmets in use during
both great wars.Every time I see a war film I wonder who
designed the cumbersome-looking things and if they were as
awkward to wear as it appears ?Were they more efficient than
seems possible and if so why are they not in use to this day ?

The Americans and Germans had stream-lined helmets that
looked the part,as did the Italians and French.The British
Paratroopers,of which my uncle was one,had modern-type
headgear,so they can't have been unavailable.I noticed that
the air-raid wardens had similar helmets but that made some
sense as it would protect them from falling debris,but they
didn't have to bear arms.The Infantrymen who wore them
were expected run and jump around and be able to fire
.303 rifles while encumbered by something that looked like
a relic from the past.

I certainly wouldn't like to have been on the wrong end of a
Bayonet thrust by a Tommy wearing one of those helmets
but from this distance one can only say that those helmets
looked,if you'll excuse me saying so,useless and awkward. I
looked it up and could find no reference to their genesis.On
a very much lighter note,did you ever notice in those Roman/
Biblical epics where they show scenes from the Collisseum,
its always the Gladiator in the roundy helmet,him with the
Trident and net,that gets it first.

Golf Coarse ?

Like Fatmammycat's nervous Filly,I was ambling home
with my newspapers this morning at a more considered
gait than normal,not because of feeling any more morose,
bitter,vindictive or bad-tempered than usual but I was
contemplating the final part of my" Wise Monkeys"
trilogy that I have been putting off with micky-mouse
posts like this for the last few days.It is not for want of a
subject or even subjects but the one I have chosen is
still a little painful to recall and relate,hence the delay
and contemplation but it will probably turn out to be
a load of bollocks anyway.

So there I was walking along the road, in a mild and
inoffensive manner,when a Merc. jerked to a halt across
the road,the driver rolled down the window and barked;

"Golf Course ?"

"What about it ?"

"Do you know where it is?"

"Of course I do.",and I walked on.


Little things like that can set you up for the whole day.

Quote of the Year

Chris Rock's "Quote of the Year""You know the world is going crazy when the best rapper is a white guy,the best golfer is a black guy, the tallest guy in the NBA is Chinese,the Swiss hold the America's Cup, France is accusing the U.S. ofarrogance, Germany doesn't want to go to war, and the three mostpowerful men in America are named Bush, Dick, and Colon. Need I saymore?"


What can you say ?

Me llamo Barney, y tu ?

For the last three weeks I've been attending a Spanish
Class for beginners,

now who is sorry he spent his English and Latin classes
messing at the back ?

Blog of the Week.

Sincere thanks to all who voted for me on Blog of
the Week at Mischief of Magpies,
http://amischiefofmagpies.blogspot.com

I am over the fuckin' moon to have won it.I'm so happy
I could publish "those" cartoons.
Or even these "http://isaacsays.blogspot.com

All I'm Saying is.......

You don't mind "Who wants to be a Millionaire " so
much because there is a bit of skill involved,along with
a good dose of general knowledge and also because of
the structure of the show with its multiple choice answers
lets us all have a go at guessing the answers .Its also
great fun watching some cunt squirm and sweat before
losing 93,000 pounds when you know the answer.The
shows that get on my tits are the ones that give out
thousands of pounds with no skill involved like that
Lotto show over here with the audience oohing and
aahing and whooping like Zulus whenever someone wins
another car or holiday.I know some of the audience will
be members of the contestant's family and therefore
stand to gain something.

But what is the attraction here,all I'm saying is what is
the point in watching some other cunt winning a shit-
load of money.

All I'm saying is...

Minister for Transport,Martin Cullen,recently announced
that four out of every ten road deaths are the direct result
of drink driving.That means that 60% of all road deaths
are caused by sober drivers,so if they only allowed drink-
drivers on the road...............

See no Evil

Firstly,we'll have a quick run through one of the many parts
that make up the art of training a canine athlete,for athletes
are what Greyhounds are.From an early age a Greyhound is
able to reach top speed in a few strides and maintain that
speed for a short space of time,what he has to be taught is how
to race at top speed on an oval circuit.They must learn to Trap
(leave the boxes all dogs are in at the start,as quickly as possible),
and Rail (run around the corners at full speed,despite the 5 other
dogs all around them).This is achieved by giving them experience
and confidence at what is called a schooling track,which has a
circuit,surface and electric "Hare" similar to a real race track.

Each visit to a schooling track will show the Trainer how much
progress each Greyhound is making,each dog being an
individual and therefore likely to train-on at different rates and
to different levels.The standard distance of a race is 525 yards
and a moderate dog can cover this distance in 30 seconds or at
a rate of 0.o57 seconds per yard.The distance in which a race
is won (or lost) is given in "Lengths " and a greyhound will
cover his own lenght in 0.07 secs.All clear ? Right,on with the
story,and as the Seanchai* of old used to say,

"If theres a lie in it,'twasn't me who put it there."

Myself and me oul' mate the Jockey arrived at the schooling
track and it was not unusual to find others there ahead of us.
We took our dogs for a short walk to empty themselves and
also to be seen to be minding our own business as is the
etiquette.

The three men,only one of whom we knew,seemed to be
fussing a lot over their dog before,during and after the
trial.The dog was checked for injury to his toes,legs neck
and back so thoroughly that the checkee must have been
a Vet and we were sorry not to have "Clocked "(timed) the
trial ,for our own future benefit,when we saw this.

Before we had our trials,Jim the track operator started
fiddling with the Hare-rail as if there was something
wrong with it and continued until the three men
departed,two with the dog,the third following in his own
van.After a short time ,much to our bemusement,Jim
strolled over to the winning post,yanked it out of the
ground and replaced it about 10 yards away.

What happened was that the third man was trying
to sell his dog,subject to a good trial and soundness and
had arranged with Jim to move the post,shortening the
distance and making the Greyhound appear about 12
lengths faster than he actually was.Since this made a
difference of about 5 thousand pounds to the price,it
is safe to assume that Jim got a nice back-hander out
of it and the two buyers went back to Northern
Ireland thinking they had a future Derby winner with them.


Could you be up to the cunts ?,talk about Caveat bleedin' Emptor.


*Seanchai ;These were semi-pro story-tellers in the Ireland
before electricity,radio and television.They were greatly
valued for their store of tales and expertise at telling all
manner of tales in prose and sometimes poetry,captivating
their audience for hours on end.They would move from
village to village bringing all the gossip as well as their
stories and would be fed,watered and sheltered like royalty
on their arrival.
With his thoughtful poetry and beautifully descriptive and
evocative language and turns of phrase,I think the most
excellent Dr. Maroon would have made a super Seanchai.

Glark

Today I would like to introduce you to Glark,
the only Dinosaur-hound in the world.He was
raised by Cannibals in the Amazon jungle,where
he promptly ate his siblings and mother but his
diet nowadays is raw meat,rice and Fusion-food,
he particularly likes the fusion of hair,flesh,blood
and bones of Poodles.Even though he appears to
be colour-blind he prefers the black ones and will
always eat the black ones first,given a choice.

His acute sense of smell makes him ideal for
seeking out anonymous commenters,and since
I blooded him with his first anonymous,he has
taken to seek and destroy missions like a duck to
water.

He is available for hire,details on request.

Hear no Evil

So there I was,caught red-handed loading ten boxes of
bananas into my van aided by the two thieves who had
stolen them.Their rightful owner had followed the thieves
and his goods (at a safe distance ) and was not best pleased.
He insisted on calling the Piggies despite him knowing me
or maybe because of it ,and furthermore insisted on
charges being brought,in face of my protestations of
innocence in any wrongdoing.

After being charged in the Bridewell with" Receiving
stolen Goods "I cursed my luck and headed across
to Ormond Quay to get myself a Solicitor.Now anybody
who reads this blog or any anonymous cunts who know
me already know my opinion of Solicitors as being the
lowest of the low,the second oldest profession in the World,
and not nearly as honourable as the oldest.The reason that
I wanted to use a stranger was because my own Solicitor is
quite expensive and anyway,it was none of his business,also
I considered Receiving to be too trivial to bother too much
about.

If you knew this area,you'd know there is an infestation of
solicitors in the area,each one seedier than the last,the one
I randomly picked turned out to be the seediest of the lot,
a Dickensian character the great man himself would have
been delighted to conjure.I outlined my case to him,how it
was my business to buy and sell fruit and veg.,and,of course,
the cheaper I bought,the better.I assured him that I had no
idea the bananas were stolen and that it was common
practise not to be issued with receipts for cash purchases.

He leaned back in his plastic-covered chair and regarded me
over the top of his spectacles,

"So you'd no idea they were stolen ?"

"No."

"None whatever ?"

"Thats right "

"You met these men and you bought ten boxes of bananas
off them,even though they were stolen ?"

"I didn't know they were stolen,how could I ?"

"You're sure you didn't know?"

"I'm sure."

"Are you positive ?",all the time with a straight face. We
stared at each other for a few seconds,then,

"What sort of an imbecile do you take me for ? Of course
I knew they were stolen."

He went fucking ballistic and shouted,

"How dare you tell me you knew they were stolen and
expect me to defend you in Court,Don't ever tell me that
again."




Postscript;

the two cunts who signed statements involving me were
found not guilty of theft but guilty of Stealing by finding,
received fines and suspended sentences.
The charge against me was dropped,due to lack of evidence,
and the solicitor who got 80 pounds off me before telling
me the charge was dropped (80 pounds was a lot of money in
the late 70s ),I never saw again,