About last night

by Twenty Major on January 18th, 2005

My mate Stinking Pete came over last night all in a flap.

“Jaysus Twenty”, he says, “I was driving down the road when somebody ran out in front of me and I hit them full on with my Nissan jeep. I think they’re dead.”

“Bloody hell, Stinking Pete” I said. “You really have to be more careful. Did anyone see you?” I asked.

“Nah” he says. “It was a quiet non-residential road but if they’re dead I’m going to go to jail and I can’t go to jail. Again.”

Pete spent some time in Joy a few years back after he robbed a house then tried to sell the stuff back to the owner of the house who happened to be a black belt in Feng Shui or some fucking martial art. Yer man karate chopped him in the bollix and held him till the cops arrived.

“Relax” I said. “We’ll go take a look.”

So we got into my car, thinking it might be best if the murder weapon didn’t arrive back on the scene of the crime, and drove off to where the accident took place. It was a quiet road near the foot of the mountains and there in the ditch lay the still-warm corpse of Pete’s victim.

“Oh bollix” says Pete. “Do you reckon he’s dead, Twenty?”

“I’d imagine so, Pete”, I said. “Do you see the way his head is all caved in and twisted the wrong way around?”

“Yeah” he says.

“Well,” I said, “That’s usually an indication of death. Also, the fact that his intestines have all shot out of his arse is another clue.”

“Fair play, Twenty” he says. “Watching all them episodes of Quincy has really paid off.”

“Hang on” I said. “Let’s find out who it is.”

So I checked the back pocket for a wallet, took it out and found a driving licence. “Mikey O’Sullivan” was his name and he was a traveller with an address at a local halting site.

A TRAVELLER!

“Hurrah!” says Pete. “I thought I’d killed a real human being.”

“You’re one jammy clit, Pete” I said, kicking the body back into the ditch, before we went for a rake of pints.

Maybe it’s just me…

by Twenty Major on January 17th, 2005

…but when I see the word photo’s as a plural for photo it makes me want to scream and kill and maim and stuff.

Roy Keane, the musical

by Twenty Major on January 17th, 2005

There have been some strange musical experiences in my lifetime. There was the time I was sick in bed and ‘Stop the cavalry’ by Jonah Lewie was playing over and over and over again on a small turntable and I couldn’t stop it and I think I had my first ever psychotic incident after the 28th play, there was the time I saw Bruce Springsteen in concert and quite enjoyed it (I felt dirty for weeks though), the continued success of that ginger cocksucker from Simply Red, and now there’s going to be Roy Keane, The Musical.

This is based around the World Cup in 2002 when Keane had his famous row with Mick McCarthy and buggered off home. It’s led me to believe you could write a musical about anything at all, so I’ve got some suggestions.

Ray Darcy - The Musical: This musical, featuring a talking badger as Ray Darcy, takes place in the studios of RTE’s The Den and covers the day Ray came to work to find Dustin giving oral pleasure to Zig while Zag was snorting cocaine from Twink’s breasts. Songs will include ‘Not in front of the kids’, ‘You can’t put your finger up there you sick bastard!’ and ‘This is wrong enough but I thought you two were brothers.’

In Tua Nua - The Musical: This show will be about In Tua Nua and their struggle to make it as a band. It will star Paris Hilton as Leslie Dowdall and follows the progress of the band until they reach their peak, playing a barnstorming gig at a Scout jamboree in Portumna, Co. Galway in 1985. As well as their famous cover of ‘Somebody to love’, new songs will include ‘We’re playing a field, it’s pissing rain and that little boy at the front is playing with his woggle’ and ‘I blame everything on the record company, the cunts’.

Jerry Springer - The Opera: This is a musical about a springer spaniel called Jerry who sings Nessun Dorma a lot.

Tony Fenton - The Musical: He thought he was Rick Dees, he thought he was the ultimate ‘jock’, hanging out in Lillies Bordello and bringing the joy of The Hotline to people across Ireland. Then it all went wrong. This musical charts the rise and fall of Tony Fenton as he makes in legal radio, becomes a household name, then his despair as it all goes wrong, his torrid affair with Gareth O’Callaghan and his addiction to jaffa cakes, battered sausages and tooth whitening cream. Features songs include ‘What do you mean you don’t know who I am pretty little 18 year old?’, ‘Yah, it’s a rockin’ show today’ and ‘How did I get this mid-atlantic accent when I’m a proper Dub?’

Moving Statues - The Musical: The phenomenon of moving statues in Ireland in the 70s and 80s was something to behold. Sensible and intelligent people stood for hours in the cold and rain to see if a lump of ceramic or cement in the shape of the Virgin Mary would move. They never did, but this musical turns back the clock and changes the outcome of events. Not only do the statues move, they breakdance their way across Ireland gathering more and more people to the church. Sinead O’Connor and Biddy from Glenroe star as the statues, Larry Gogan is the enterprising and trendy priest who organsises the ‘Two of ‘em Roadshow’ and songs include ‘Hey you, the rock heavy crew’, ‘I saw Mary pole-dancing in Clonmel’ and ‘Get your mickey out of that lady, Bishop Eamon’.

I shall be approaching showbiz moguls any time now so expect to see these shows, and more, in The Point soon.

Young scientist’s exhibition

by Twenty Major on January 14th, 2005

Isn’t it great to see all the mini-boffins doing their thing in the Young Scientist’s Exhibition? Not only do they get to feck around with chemicals and lab equipment they get a few days off school too. I remember applying to my school to enter and was told that none of my suggested scientific experiments was suitable to represent my fine educational institution in public. Personally I can’t see what the problem was, but I’ll let you decide as I bring you my list.

Danataur: In this experiment I was going to surgically remove Dana’s head and transplant it onto a bull. The school said their insurance wouldn’t cover it in case anything happened to the bull.

Sinclair C500: This experiment would have seen me modify Sir Clive Sinclair’s geeky electric transportation device with a 500CC Honda engine. I then planned to have eldery people race off against each other on a dangerous track with leaps and tight corners to see if competitiveness decreased as people got older.

The bum blindfold test: I would line up three volunteers who would drop their pants and present their bums to the air. Then I would blindfold priests and have them fondle the buttocks of the volunteers, one of whom was an underage boy. What sort of success ratio would the priests have? I never found out.

The Hothouse Flowers test: After hearing ‘Don’t go’ on the radio for the six billionth time I wanted to see if scruffy vagrant singer Liam Ó Maonlaí could sing in tune while being repeatedly punched in the face. Had this experiment proven successful it would have opened a whole new world which could have stopped JJ72 from ever existing, but sadly it was too late to prevent Something Happens from happening.

Alternative fuels: What if we could move away from fossil fuels? It would help the environment and put an end to the evil oil cartels that dictate the world’s economy. Sadly my request to use the school lab to fashion an alternative to petrol made from the blood and brain stem fluid of travellers was turned down.

Multi-function remote control: Wouldn’t it be great if we had one remote control that we use to operate all kinds of appliances in the house? The TV, video recorder, lights, cooker, toaster, fridge, radio, the lot. After much work I finally found the solution but the cost of importing the slaves from even the poorest countries was prohibitive, as was the law.

Dickie Rock: With this experiment I wanted to pound Dickie Rock with rocks on his dick. Just for larks, like.

Cross breeding: I wanted to see what would happen if you crossed a lady with a mammoth. My early works were quite successful until one night the creature I’d bred escaped from the lab. Mary Harney went on to forge a very successful career in Irish politics.

How squid can affect life out of the water: My contention was that if you got a number of people into a room then smothered them with 3 tons of squid that the people would be affected. So I rounded up some homeless and Canadian people and carried out the experiment. What it showed was that both the squids and humans sucked the life out of each other leaving me with a lot of cleaning up and explaining to do.

Acid puppies: I wanted to see if it was possible for dogs to hallucinate so I gathered up a couple of puppies and gave them both a tab of acid. After a while both dogs began to run headfirst into the wall. They kept doing that for a long time and the only thing I managed to prove was that if you give Labrador puppies a tab of acid they’ll start running headfirst into a wall. The school would not allow me to purchase more acid or more puppies so I tried it on first years in the school and I can state with great certainty that they did hallucinate. One of them mistook our failed thespian and hopelessly gay English teacher for the devil and leapt out of a window. Luckily for him it was a ground floor window. Unluckily for him he now looks like the love child of Gary Moore and Simon Weston after the glass shattered all over his face.

They were just some of my experiments that never made the Young Scientist’s Exhibition. Good luck to everyone taking part.

An exchange in a city centre bar

by Twenty Major on January 14th, 2005

Says I to the lounge girl, “Four pints of Guinness, two Jamesons with water, a gin and tonic, a bottle of Holsten Pils, three pints of Bulmers, two Heineken, six Carlsberg and a vodka and diet Coke”

Says she looking at me funny“I’d better get a pen”

Says I, “Aye, that’d be a good idea. Get them drinks in before they all arrive. Bit of a leaving do for someone in work today. You know yourself.”

Says she returning with the biro, “So that’s Four pints of Guinness, two Jamesons with water, a gin and tonic, a bottle of Holsten Pils, three pints of Bulmers, two Heineken, six Carlsberg and a vodka and diet Coke?”

Says I, “No flies on you girl.”

Says she, “I’ll be back in a minute.”

Time passes….

Says she, “There’s your four Guinness and three Bulmers”

More time passes….

Says she, “There’s your six Carlsberg and three Heineken. I’ll be back with the rest in a minute.”

Very little time passes

Says she to the sight of me running out the door, “Hey, where are you going?”

Says I to myself as I lose myself in pedestrian traffic “That’ll teach you cunts for telling me I’d had enough the last time I was in here.”

Ryanair grounded by Spanish hypocrisy

by Twenty Major on January 13th, 2005

I had to laugh when I read that Ryanair could be in trouble in Spain after the UGT, Spain’s general workers’ union, claimed that one of its representatives, Ahmed El Bekkaoui was called a “Moroccan shit” during a row with a Ryanair official at Girona Airport.

Now I’m all for racial equality (except for Turks and the Welsh) but this is just nonsense. The Spanish, who refer to anybody slightly darker than the mediterranean bronzed look many of them sport as ‘Moors’, are notoriously racist. Look at the recent football match between England and Spain when Ashley Cole and Shaun Wright-Phillips were booed, hissed, taken off to the woods and set on fire by Spanish supporters. Real Madrid fans did something similar in the Champions League a while back and only yesterday it was reported that Athletico Madrid were fined €300 for racist chanting at Roberto Carlos. Nothing like a good hefty fine to put people in their place, is there?

Anyway, is it really racist to call someone a Moroccan shit if they are a shit and they happen to come from Morocco? I don’t know how many times I’ve been called a beardy Mick cunt on my travels to the UK, but I don’t find it racist. I am beardy, I am a Mick and I am most definitely a cunt. If somebody had ever said to me “I’m not buying your drugs quality Irish made merchandise because you’re Irish” then I’d have found that racist.

Sticks and stones and all that.

Anyway, I find it remarkable that a company like Ryanair, who have given such opportunities to the partially-sighted, epileptic, amputee pilots of the world should be taken to task over something like this.

Finally, saw some graffiti in Dublin yesterday, didn’t have my digital camera though. It said “Dubloon is a cunt” and I wrote it on the wall of the Customs House myself.

Is it possible….

by Twenty Major on January 11th, 2005

…to overdose on jam doughnuts from Superquinn? I’m hallucinating and I’ve had 3 poos already today.

On another note I’d like to thank the driver of the 15B who let me onto the bus while he was stopped at the traffic lights just outside of Templeogue village the other day. I think it’s only fair to praise the man in question for his good deed, which cost him nothing, especially when you consider the other outright cunt from last Friday.

To the busman who commented on that post I am sincerely looking forward to reading your blog, your tales of transporting people around the city, of how you always whistle a happy tune and smile at people as they get on and of how you’re not a cross-eyed bollix like the other bloke and how you regularly knock old men off their bikes.

Twenty’s New Year Resolutions

by Twenty Major on January 8th, 2005

I know they’re a bit late but better late than me shooting you in the kidneys. That’s what I say. Here are my resolutions for 2005.

Romanian Beggars: This year I resolve to annoy them the same way they annoy me. I’m going to walk alongside them and whine and plead for money they don’t have. I’m also going to make balls of snot of poo and when they approach me I’m going to shove them down the necks of the poor children they insist on carrying around with them.

Minutes silences: 2004 became the year when a minute’s silence suddenly jumped to three minute’s silence. What the fuck is that about? Inflation? Soon we’ll be having silences in memory of the people who had a minute’s silence. It’s bollocks.

That auld tsunami thing was terrible, but fuck me I’m bored out of my shite hearing about it now. Why don’t we have a minute’s silence for the terrible sunshine nature wreaks upon the deserts of the world every day?

I suggest silences should be replaced by a minute long excerpt from ‘Teenage Kicks’ by The Undertones and people should pogo around as a mark of respect.

Spice burgers: I resolve to eat more spice burgers. Especially when I come home from the pub, put them in the microwave, gasp as the microwave blows the trip switch in the house, then forget that the spice burgers have only been cooked for 9 seconds and eat them even though they’re cold in the middle. Mmmmm, mmmmmm, goooooood.

Farting in public: I resolve to fart in public more, especially on the bus, and especially SBDs (silent but deadly). When the Guinness and cold spice burger stench wafts throughout the bus I resolve to look disgustedly at the person beside me like I heard them rip off the offending fart.

Helping foreigners: I sincerely resolve to help foreign people working in Dublin, especially Chinese bar workers whose English is as good as my Cantonese.

“Geddusapintaguinnessyashitehawk”, I’ll annunciate clearly. Or not.

Kidnap one of Kerry McFadden’s breasts: I will hire a large truck and kidnap one of her knockers, then force her cunty husband Brian to pay me an enormous ransom to get his children’s source of food back.

Tell stories: I resolve to tell more people stories. Like the one about Michael McDowell, a gorgeous Nigerian woman and love beads; the one about the Irish football star, his team-mate and their holiday alone, and the one about Dubloon, his poxy website and why it really closed down.

I think that’ll do me for now. If I think of any more I’ll let you know.

Here’s to 2005.

Open letter to the driver of the 15B that passed me by in Rathmines

by Twenty Major on January 7th, 2005

Dear Driver of the 15B that passed me by in Rathmines,

you are a cunt.

You saw me running the for the bus in the wind and the rain and there was still one passenger getting on. I know you saw me. However, that didn’t stop you pulling off when I was less than 5 yards away from the front door. In your haste you nearly knocked an elderly man off his bike.

I would just like to take this opportunity to wish you all the ill-will I can muster. I hope your cock rots off, your bollocks swell to the size of super-inflated space hoppers and your anus is violated repeatedly by a farmer’s fist before you’re forced to drink the gone off spunk of a thousand tramps.

If I ever see you again I’m going to headbutt you to death. With your childrens heads.

yours

Twenty Major

ps - you are a cunt. You cunt.

Village Photos

by Twenty Major on January 6th, 2005

I notice that in my absence www.villagephotos.com seems to have gone the way of the east coast of Sri Lanka. This means that you are no longer treated to the sight of my handsome visage on the side of the page and the top image on the site no longer appears either.

Quite frankly that’s just typical of the Government we have in this country. I suspect it may also be the fault of the speed limits changing from miles per hour to kilometres per hour.

I am unimpressed.