X Rated

Never took to Simon Cowell, the little shortarse bollix off the
X Factor, and his teeth are far too white to be wholesome,
what sort of an Englishman has those ? Is he ashamed of
his culture or what ? Not to mention his smarminess and
his wonderful opinion of himself , nor his crimes against the
aural senses.
And that was before his present incarnation wherby he, his
pet poodle bitch-boy Louis Walsh and the twins, Vapid and
Vacuous insult and degrade unfortunates whose selfish and
money-grabbing families have convinced them have a
modicum of talent, reducing them to tearful, broken wrecks
after queing for hours for the priviledge of being humiliated.
All for our delight and delectation, and to make more money
for shortarse.
This is bad enough, but having weeded out the hopeless , the
infirm and the downright useless, appalling conestants, the
circus begins to find who will win the competition and be the
Christmas no.1, the best-selling Single of Christmas week.
Cowell and his horrid crew are telling US what we will be
buying at Christmas. Only it's not us who'll be doing the
buying, the fact that you're here means you have some
semblance of a brain, so you won't fall for his shite. Nor any
of the usual suspects who chose what music they down-load
or purchase with their hard-earned. No, the only ones who
are guaranteed to fall for this annual super-con are the pre-
teens and 12/13 year olds who are desperately trying to be
cool in the eyes of their friends and siblings, making their
first foray into the few Record Stores that are left open.
This is where I have the problem in that every show from
now to the end of the series is just a glorified grooming pro-
cess for these children to get them to put whoever he, Cowell,
choses into the no.1 slot, on the week he chooses. To my mind
it is a form of legalised paedophilia.

Split-Stomach Day

Do you know what day it is today ? I thought not. It's only the
feast day of St. Martin of Tours, patron saint of Vintners and
Drunkards and also just happens to be the day for starting to
drink wine from the new grape vintage, tradition goes.
It was also, in my father's time, the traditional day for
slaughtering the pig that wouldn't gain any more over the
Winter, only eating and wasting valuable feed. The butchered
carcass would be layered in a tea-chest with copious quantities
of salt ,best bits on the bottom and ending up with the shoulder,
hocks, cheeks and trotters on top.
Quite often ,if it had been a very large pig, all the meat could
not be cured in this way and whatever could not be saved
was feasted on for a few days of Martinmas, the last feast
before Christmas, which is why Martinmas was always known
as Split-Stomach Day .

If only some of my dogs had been this quick out of the traps !

Stateside

Isn't it great to see that after 2 hard years of trials and
tribulations, even as many doubted his resolve, his ability
to succeed at the very top, where most observers felt
there to be no place for a young, vibrant non-white in a
world dominated by rich white men that the world can
no longer deny the talents of Lewis Hamilton.

Suspenders

I was about to finish my story but have decided to suspend

myself for 1 week because of my unacceptable behaviour

and gross misconduct.
In the meantime I leave you a touch of class ;



http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gFgA5_f8V18&feature=related

And then...............................

The following takes us beyond the edge of decency, again, if you are easily

offended, I thought I told you to fuck off.











After the night I had just experienced I knew I could die a



happy man, but not just yet, not without a drink first, at least.


My temple was throbbing as much as my "head" was


last night.



" I suppose a drink is out of the question."



WHACK. Mbosi lashed the hilt across my shin.



He was not a large man, rather on the small side, petite even,



all right, he was a fuckin' dwarf and the little bollix was enjoying



our present circumstance.



" Fuck you, I want a drink."



WHACK.



Thinks......... " Rule 1, Do not aggravate a Dwarf with a bayonet "



" I am not happy." said Mbosi.



" well which one are you ?" God help me, I couldn't resist it.



WHACK WHACK.



Obviously not the first time he heard it.



Thinks............ " Rule 2, for fuck's sake, heed rule 1.



" Mr. Barney, you have something I and my large organization



want and need."



" If you keep flicking that bayonet, you'll have something I



want and need."



WHACK.



Thinks.................... " Jaysus.", says............



" Fuck you, shortarse, who let you out ? "



WHACK.



" Where did you learn to scam ? You must've gone to the



George Bush school of scamming.



WHACK WHACK...........................WHACK.


Thinks.................... Rule 1, rule 1, for fucks sake, rule 1.



" Do you know," says the little bollix, I was quite hoping you'd



be un-cooperative, we'll see how cocky you are when we're



finished with you." He reached down and produced a small



leather case and slowly unzipped it.



" O.K. Rosie, you know what to do."



Jesus, did she know. Out of the case he palmed a video camera



as Rosie begun to caress my tenderest bits. It was plain to all



that I was heroically trying to ignore Rosie's devilish ministrations,



no more than reasonably successfully when Katya intervened.



" Perhaps I can encourage him." she said slyly and Mbosi



nodded his agreement.



Thinks....................I'm bolloxed now.



She rummaged about on the table and came up behind me



with a tumbler full of Hennessy, cradled my head with one



hand and poured the French-style water-of-life into my



parched mouth and I could've sworn she gave me a con-



piratorial wink as she did so, she also " cradled " my other



bits when she'd emptied the glass.



It wasn't exactly my idea of torture, I thought, as the



brandy kicked in and the chemicals of the previous night



released their residue. I'll tell you one thing, that Rosie



knew her job, I'd swear she could suck the chrome off a



tow-bar ball-hitch. I closed my eyes and let nature and


Rosie take its course and just as the fireworks started,


the fireworks started.

Lagos

The following narration takes us to the very edge of decency and good


taste so anyone among you who is easily offended can fuck off right now.














I don't know who or what they were expecting but
whatever it was, I wasn't it.
I had arrived hot and bothered with my feet feeling
like a pair of pig's trotters so I stripped off bollick-
naked and guzzled the contents of my little bar and
rang down to order more ,Hennessy, Smirnoff Blue and
Jaegermeister, at least pint bottles thereof, and don't
make me go down to yis, or there'll be wigs on the Green.
So I perforformed my ablutions, s,s&s and was busy
modelling one of those towelly dressing-gowns, Jesus,
do they not make them in mens sizes ? Think of a cross
between a Sixties Brigitte Bardot and the Incredible Hulk,
nice legs though.
My reverie was interupted by a light tap on the door, too
light for a porter, I thought, as I answered and how
right I was because what met my gaping face was one
of the tallest, darkest, most sensual women I had ever
clapped eyes on followed by an even more exotic blonde.
" Mr. Mbosi sent us to keep you company until he can
join us." purred Rosie
" He hopes you will excuse his tardiness " added Katya
as they introduced themselves.

They then proceeded to do more for me than any
woman has done for a long time. Katya managed to
tune Sky Sports in ,which I had been unable to do,
while Rosie poured me a tumbler of Smirnoff Blue
and rang room service for some Champagne and 3
plates of Lobster Thermidor, the speciality of the
hotel.
As the evening passed I pretended not to notice them
adding something to each drink they fixed for me and
I can't say what it was thay added, I do, however,
know what I added to theirs. You have never lived
'til you see the effect an Ecstacy and a Cialis tablet
have on even the most modest of women, and this
pair of beauts were certainly far from modest.
I popped a couple of Dexys myself in case whatever
they had given me was not strong enough and
watched them getting jiggy with each other, suffice
to say, there was not a dry seat in the house.
Such a fucking night we had, or should that be the
other way around.
I was awakened rather roughly the next morning
by our Mr. Mbosi, as I discovered him to be,
poking a knife into my goolies and when I tried to
jump up found my wrists handcuffed to either
side of the Four-poster.
He held in his hand a bayonet of some sort with a large hilt

affixed to a blade which must have been at least a foot long

and he was flicking at my balls as a fisherman would flick lice off

a wild Salmon.

Never saw it coming.

" What would you like for Christmas this year?"
"There is nothing you have not given me already."
"But there must be something, my darling."
"Absolutely nothing, my precious "
" Would you like a new hat ? "
"I have at least twenty."
"A nice grey Homburg, my dearest ? "
"I really don't think so, light of my life. "
"Matching gloves and scarf, blood of my veins ? "
" Really Ellie, there is nothing I want "
"My poor Nikki, you've been so down lately that I
just wanted to take your mind off things."
"Things will improve in the new year, you'll see, we
might take a long weekend somewhere."
"Really Nikki, Where would we go ?"
"Oh, anywhere, Moscow, perhaps."
" Thats exactly what we need, I really don't think I
can cope with any more bad news at the moment,
its just one thing after another."
"I've told you ,dearest Ellie, we'll be allright, we
did not make the same silly mistakes all the
others made."
" But they all seemed so strong, so secure."
" Their foundations were shaky and they took their
eyes off the ball, gave too much, too easily."
" Its heartbreaking to see them drop, one by one."
" It won't happen here, dearest Elena "
" you said it wouldn't happen in Poland." She sighed,
" Or Hungary, or Czechoslovakia and two weeks ago,
Bulgaria."
" We've ruled here for 21 years, they wouldn't dare,
besides, the people love us." said Nicolae.

One week later, this happened on Christmas Day 1989.

I wonder was it the same for the Aztecs just before the end?
Were the citizens of Rome, even as Aleric and his horde of
Visigoths advanced on their once great city, still hoping for
some kind of miracle, as their leaders faffed about with
mickey-mouse solutions ? Did they not see the end coming?
Do we ?

Who wants to be ..........................

For my friends, Doc. & Kim.....

Some of you may have been wondering where I was and

what I was up to for the last while and the simple answer is

that it's none of your damn business, sorry, only joking.

Funnily enough , the truth is much stranger than any

fiction my warped mind could conjure so brace yourselves,

pour a stiff one and sit back while I relate all that I can

remember about the beginning of an eventful time. If there

is any lie in what follows, it wasn't me who put it there and

all characters are non-ficticious.

Malicia and me had been going through one of our rough

passages, not the marriage, I hasten to add, that was as

bad as ever and nothing changes there but financially

things were getting a bit ropey with some of the tenants

falling behind with their rent. Then there had been a

series of bad decisions made on the oul' equine front but

worst of all my Organic Local Farmer's Market stall had

been closed down by the Corporation because of a raft

of spurious suggestions, allegations and petitions that my

goods were not organic or local and furthermore had the

flimsiest aquaintance with farmers of any description. I

might be able to grow figs, kiwi fruit and blood oranges for all

they knew, the fuckers, organic ones at that.

Things had become so bad that Malicia had to forego her daily

chin, moustache and leg waxing sessions and go twice weekly

instead. If the situation got any worse I would have to send

some of my girlfriends back Pole-dancing while any further

deterioration in my finances would necessitate taking some

of the Gardai off my payroll, don't talk to me about appalling

vistas.

So there I was one morning about to start a busy day at the

office, i.e. log into Betfair, when I decided to check my

e-mails and holy fuck, hadn't all my prayers been answered.

There it was, in black and white, hadn't I only gone and won

$ 1.5 million on the Nigerian Lottery. Now this was a complete

surprise to me as I had completely forgotten to play it that

week so I could only assume that they were working a back-

week or something like that. Now I know what you're thinking

and I had heard some vague rumours as well about possible

scams emanating from Nigeria but this notification was from

a bank manager so God bless their little black arses was all I

could think, my just reward for all the pennies I gave to

" the Black Babies " as a chiseller, fair play to me. All I had to

do was to send some of my bank details to a Mr. Mbosi at the

Royal Nigerian Bank in Lagos. Fuckin' sure, says I, and I did.

I suppose you know whats coming next, well you don't,

smart-arse. I went on an unholy bender for 10 days and

only finished when I came to in Holyhead in a taxi on the

way to a Registry Office where a "Quare One " had

persuaded me to marry her, but thats another story and I'll

tell you about it some other time.

So I sneaked home, waited for Malicia to leave and went in

to check the mail. Sweet Gee, do you know what was left in

my bank account, of course you do, there was sweet fuck-all.

The sneaky fuckers had only gone and sucked out my com-

plete overdraft of 167,453 euros and 49 cents, which the

bank had been trying to retrieve for ages, and left me with

no hold over the bank manager, and worse still, no winnings.

Even to my addled brain those exchange rates didn't calculate

correctly and $1.5 mill. did not equal E 167,453.49 so I

reckoned someone owed me about 950.000 euros, fuck it,

call it a million and I'll say nothing. Now, who to collect it

from ?, and where could I find this little bollix, Mbosi.

You won't believe this, but just then the 'phone rang and

who do you think it was, yes, some fucker selling kitchens,

and while I was giving him his pedigree the 'phone bleeped

and this time who was it only the bould Mbosi himself,

bold as brass.

" I think we should meet, Mr Barney. " says he.

" Theres some explaining to be done all right." says I.

Which is how I found myself in the top floor suite of

the Sheraton Lagos Hotel and Towers.

Result

Such was the power of this blog that two days after
that last posting the sneaky little bollix resigned and
as some of you may know, Ireland voted to reject the
Lisbon Treaty and hopefully save Europe from even
more Scutterology ( abuse of power by unelected
un-civil servants).

Lisbon Treaty

Anyone who has no great interest in Politics ,has no interest in the E.C. or

has no interest in the future of Ireland will be dazed and confused by all

the furore about the upcoming Referendum on the Lisbon Treaty.

The answer is simple, Just wait to see what the Liar Ahern advocates,

then go out and Do the opposite.

Not My Work

I didn't write this, but I wish to fuck I did.

I got it in an e-mail, but I like to think it is something that I might
have posted if I was still active.



RTE News 15th February 2007 18.02

British & Irish Governments Plan Ceremony in Croke Park Northern IrelandMinister Peter Hain has announced details of a joint ceremony before Irelands crunch game against England in Croke Park on the 24th February.The significance of the game is not lost on GAA followers and republicans who remember the infamous shooting of 14 players and supporters by the British Army on the 21st November 1921.However according to GAA spokesman U Magee a plan being devised by the GAA and the Northern Ireland office, will attempt to draw a line under the incident."We've spoken to the British government and they understand the significance of the event back in 1921. Back then 14 people were killed by British forces so in the spirit of the peace process and friendship we're proposing that we shoot 14 of their lot before the match. Then maybe have fireworks afterwards or something." Said Mr Magee.

Government Reaction

The plan has had a mixed reaction from Downing Street. Prime Minister Tony Blair thinks the idea has merit but said that it needs to be done properly and with dignity."Frankly I think its a small price to pay for progression in Anglo-Irish affairs, but I think the idea of getting Ray Houghton to do the shooting would be too much for many English fans to take particularly after his goal against us back in 1988. And he's Scottish which is worse."

Proposed Victims

According to informed sources, the GAA and Number 10 have already drawn up a list of names for those to be shot. The list, which is not yet agreed, is thought to be a compromise of people that both the Irish and English public dislike. Among the names are moaney-hole singer James Blunt, foul mouth idiot Jade Goody, Trinny & Suzannah, Man Utd donkey Rio Ferdinand, cream cake expert Vanessa Feltz, "comedian" Russell Brand and any of the blokes who do outside broadcasts for Sky News.But discussions took an ironic twist when both sides agreed on shooting Belfastsinger Brian Kennedy, but neither side agreed on what nationality he was. GAA representatives claim he's British with their Foreign Office counterparts claiming he's Irish. The Irish claimed no Irishman should sing or dance in such a manner and the English saying he couldn't be a Brit because he had no tattoos on his forearm and didn't wear Ben Sherman shirts. However there was eventual consensus that he should be shot regardless of his nationality.Plans agreedThe shooting will be carried out my members of the 2nd Infantry Battalion from Cathal Brugha Barracks in Dublin. The original idea to get the FCA to carry out the executions were dropped when they revealed that their rifles are in fact made of baked-plastercine. Similarly the Garda Emergency Response Unit was discounted for fear they'd shoot more innocent civilians then claim overtime for it.

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.