Monthly Archives: December 2004

Last night I had a kind of Christmas get-together with some old chums. Seany the Skank, Tommy ‘The cuntbuster’ McNamee, Lyrical Liam and I quaffed expensive champagne at the Morrisson Hotel then took in an excellent dinner at the Merrion and topped it off with a night of entertainment at a private gentleman’s pub. Or we had a rake of pints in the Foggy Dew. Believe what you want.

Anyway, as I was sitting on the couch this morning waiting for the coffee to percolate (or the kettle to boil) I happened to switch onto TV3. Ireland AM, their morning show was on, and I was lucky to catch the fashion segment with the presenter who looks like a 50s movie star (but who scares me because she looks like she’s 6’7″) and some woman in a dress which can only be described as being the colour of vomit mixed with oil and water with some old horse piss throw in on top of it.

Anyway, they were showcasing some of the latest fashions from vom-dress’s boutique (which I can’t remember the name of). I find it hard to believe they weren’t taking the piss. Vom-dress says “This beautiful combination is the embodiment of chic-bohemian style merged with comfort and elegance” as the model came out wearing what could only be described as the kind of get-up a bag lady with cataracts might wear. Jeans, a purple top, some other kind of skirt (I’m not Jonny Fashion but I know skirt over jeans = lame) and a rather wanky looking bag.

Other beautiful outfits included a purple dress with shoulder pads so wide they’d make Crystal Carrington come in her pants just look at them, a green silk thing which just looked like it needed a good ironing and a metallic gold dress which made the model look like a mermaid with a giant arse. All the time Vom-dress is simpering and talking about how beautiful and unique they are. Newsflash sister, the only reason they’re unique is because the designer made one, realised it looked like shit and gave up. More cunture than couture, let me tell you.

Then there were the shoes. I don’t think there was a pair under €420. What’s wrong with a good pair of Clarks? They’re comfortable and you get plenty of wear out of them. Instead they want the ladies of Ireland to suffer frostbite on their feet as they go out with a couple of gaudy straps attached to a sole and they want them to pay through the nose for them.

Fashion really is a load of old bollocks. The only way this could have been any worse is if they’d had Mark Cagney commenting on the models or that fat cunt from the sports news on the catwalk.