Eurovision

by Twenty Major on May 20th, 2005

Ireland’s gay community was in mourning last night when our entry for the Eurovision song contest failed to make it through the semi-finals. The song ‘Love?’ sung by a seemingly handicapped brother and sister duo from Athlone was deemed ‘utter shite’ by voters across Europe.

Look at the fuckers though. I know people can’t help the way they look but there was no need, out of all the contestants who entered, to choose the ugliest pair in all of Ireland. One chap seems particularly delighted with their failure, and who can blame him?

The only people that ugly who should be seen in public are politicians whose ugliness makes them successful, the ugly cunts.

The McCauls are so ugly if they lay on a beach a cat would try and bury them.

No doubt it was yet another cunning ploy by RTE to ensure Ireland don’t win the competition so they don’t have to cough up all the money needed to host the thing. Next year our contestants will be a couple of piss stained tramps, and I don’t mean Paris Hilton and Wayne Rooney’s bird.

Anyway, the Eurovisios has been shi’ite since they let Israel in. I might just go see that Star Wars - Revenge of the cist thing instead.

New Dangermaus

by Twenty Major on May 19th, 2005

The moment you’ve been waiting all week for. Well, three of you have anyway. Ok, two. Ok then, me. New Dangermaus!!

Irish Superheroes

by Twenty Major on May 19th, 2005

It’s a sad fact of Irish life that we’ve never had any superheroes - a normal person by day who has extra powers which he can use to save ordinary citizens from peril and danger from Machiavellian villains like Lex Luthor, the Green Goblin and Michael McDowell. So I got to thinking about this shocking deficiency and decided to invent a few myself. If anyone of you decide to take on the mantle of one of the heroes I give you below you need only pay me a small fee. So here goes:

Blackman: With so many bogus fugees in the country right now the stock of the dark man is pretty low. What better way to help integrate them into Irish society than a superhero who saves women from burning buildings, rescues cats from trees, disembowels travellers and Romanians, and who, when the job is done, can serenade us all with sweet soul music and hand out delicious fried chicken? Go Blackman!

AIDSman: With a costume that turns him into the shape of a giant cock, AIDSman’s foes will be all the cunts in Ireland, inserting himself into them and shooting them full of creamy AIDS. Achill Island will be cleared and made into a colony where they’re then sent to die. Go AIDSman!

The Scuttery Fart: When gangs of crusties go on a march with their bongos, lice and poorly-spelled banners to try and ‘reclaim the streets’ all we’ll need is an appearance from The Scuttery Fart to clear them away. He’ll get himself into the middle of the crowd then do one of those farts that dribbles a little bit of yellow poo down your leg. New technologies involving Guinness and kebabs will ensure his scuttery farts are two-hundred times more powerful than normal. The stench will drive away the crusties, some of whom will impale themselves on the gates of Trinity College to escape the odour of death than emanates from his roaring red ringpiece. Go The Scuttery Fart!

Joe de Taxi: Joe will have a special car, like Batman’s except it can carry 7 and a baby’s buggy, which can snatch people from the streets with lightning fast pincers. Whenever a fight is about to start outside Club 92 Joe de Taxi will sense it, grab one of the fighting groups and then drive them home, all the while telling them about how things were much better ‘back in de day, y’know’. Go Joe de Taxi.

The Judge: Able to transform himself into any Judge in the country this superhero wouldn’t pay attention to the secret societies that exist to protect high profile people from people ever finding out all the shit they get up to. He’d sentence child molesters and make them reveal what they know instead of just giving them a slap on the wrist in return for their silence. Go The Judge!

Pants on Fireman: As well as getting the cities firefighters to finally put some clothes on this hero would have the power to immolate anybody caught lying in public. Able to flit between Dail Eireann, any gathering of Northern Ireland politicians and OJ Simpson’s house within seconds a few sacrificial lambs would ensure the world is a better, most honest place. Go Pants on Fireman!

The Moving Statue: This stealth hero or heroine will take on the shape of a statue of the Virgin Mary. Actually, this will have to be a woman because all male superheroes have enormous testicles which would be hard to conceal. Anyway, The Moving Statue would be present at the meetings of all the top criminals in the country and nobody would bat an eyelid because they’re all deeply religious, being priests and bishops an’ all. When they reveal their next dastardly plan The Moving Statue leaps forward and knocks them all out with a boxing glove on a spring that shoots from her quim. Uppercut-tastic! Go The Moving Statue!

There are just a few potential superheroes - and you’ll note I didn’t mention anything about Potato Man, The Drunken Writer or The Swimming Coach. Can you think of any more?

Geekery

by Twenty Major on May 18th, 2005

Testing some wee thingy called Ecto which allows you to post to blogger without logging into blogger which is handy because blogger, like Ron the Barman, can be a right cunt sometimes.

Technorati Tags: cunt

Operation Anvil

by Twenty Major on May 18th, 2005

So Darth McDowell announced Operation Anvil, a €6.5m assault on organised crime in Dublin. Sadly it’s based around overtime for Gardai and not the Coyote trying to drop an anvil on the Roadrunner thing I thought it might be. Fighting organised crime with slapstick comedy is something they may have to look at in the future though.

Perhaps instead of paying all that money to the police for working extra hours they could make a gameshow out of it that people all over the country could take part in. Here’s what they should do.

Release a list and photograph of anyone known to be involved in organised crime. Then put up a cash prize for each one that is captured or killed. Let’s say you get €10,000 for each one you capture and €5,000 for each one you kill making it more rewarding, although certainly riskier, to keep them alive. For the guys at the upper echelons of the criminal underworld you could double or triple that. Most of them are soaking it up in Alicante anyway so it would be more of a challenge to get them back to Ireland.

When captured they choose two options.

1- Be tried on TV by a jury of D-list celebrities such as Ronan Keating, Dana, the black guy who used to busk on Grafton Street, Gavin Lambe Murphy, Ryle Nugent, Tony Fenton and so on. Chairing the jury would be Questions and Answers host John Bowman and the judge would be Ray D’Arcy. Captured criminals would be entitled to legal representation from mentally handicapped people dressed in giant panda suits for comedy purposes.

2 - A three round fight with one of the following opponents: A Kodiak bear, Roy Keane or a velociraptor. If they survive the fight they can go free once they’ve been set on fire three hundred yards from a lake. If they survive that they can go live a normal life after years of painful reconstructive surgery.

This idea gives the general public a chance to make some money, would provide fantastic entertainment for those only willing to watch and would massively increase vigilantism, shoot-outs and give the undertaking business the boost it needs in these days of long life since the smoking ban.

Fighting organised crime will never have been such fun. How long before Tyrone Productions come up with the idea for themselves?

Jimmy is a bollix

by Twenty Major on May 17th, 2005

I was in the pub the other night with Jimmy the Bollix and we got to talking about the internet. He’s always thought my interest in it was suspect, to say the least, but he started asking me questions about the site.

Says he “This old blogging shite you’re into. It’s a bit of crack is it?”

“It is” says I.

“And you can just spout your usual shite and give your witty and often hilarious stories a wider audience than us cunts in the bar?”

“That I can.”

“And it’s free to set one of these things up, you say?”

“It is. You just choose a name and away you go. Even a fucking mallet-headed cunt like you could do it”, I replied.

“And there’s no limit on what you can say? Whatever you feel like writing that’s ok?”

“Exactly.”

“And it’s definitely free?”, he asked again. Jimmy’s great-Grandfather was Jewish but don’t mention that to him.

“Totally free,” I assured him.

“Right” he says. “Sure maybe I’ll have a crack at it. Anyway, enough dorky internet talk. What about them Shamrock Rovers?”

So that was that. I didn’t think much more about it until I woke up this morning and found an email waiting for me.

From: jimmythebollix@youareacunt.com
Subject: Check this out
Date: May 17, 2005 11:52:37 PM GMT+00.00
To: twentymajor@gmail.com

Have a look at this you cunt.

Jimmy.

Har har, Jimmy. Truly you are a bollix amongst men.

I had a dream

by Twenty Major on May 16th, 2005

Last night I had a dream that I was walking down Grafton Street and their were all sorts of street entertainers juggling, fire-eating, busking and doing that thing where they stand really still until someone puts some money in their tray and they come to life as if by magic.

All the entertainers were former boy band members made up as minstrels. Members of Take That, East 17, Boyzone, 911 , Westlife and many more whose names I don’t know were now making their livings on the streets. Then it occurred to me that these minstrels were actually very dangerous zombies who would try and take over the running of the country from our super-efficient new government headed by Johnny Giles.

I had to then destroy them by cutting them in half with what can only be described as a cross between a machete and a scythe. At first people were shocked to see a blacked-up Bryan McFadden spilling his guts out on the street but as he died he grew fangs and looked all minging so everyone knew all the other minstrels were dangerous and they started chopping them in half too. Soon Grafton Street was awash with blood and guts with a Sunshine 101 ‘eye-in-the-sky’ helicopter reported from above while playing Echo and the Bunnymen songs.

Then I woke up and went for a piss.

Orphans

by Twenty Major on May 13th, 2005

It’s something I’ve been thinking of for a while now and I’m not sure the state is making proper use of orphans. While all sorts of groups bleat on at the government about their rights or the rights of others we’re neglecting a percentage of the population that can be used and exploited with little accountability should anything go wrong.

‘But what exactly do you mean?’ I hear you ask. Well, here are some ways we could make better use of orphans in Ireland.

Animal testing: With bleeding heart liberals and softly spoken crusties against testing cosmetics, drugs and brain surgery on animals why not use orphans? We’ll get more insight testing on them because they’re human and not monkeys or beagle puppies. Plus if anything goes wrong who’s going to come looking for them? Nobody, that’s who.

Assassins: As you’ll have read yesterday Ireland has a lot of enemies across the globe. Let’s train some orphans to be ruthless assassins and take out the leaders of our foes. They’ll be without conscience and won’t be worrying about getting home to their families because they don’t have families, making them the most cold-blooded killers the world has ever seen.

Back-street surgeons: Knowing they have nobody to take them to task for their career choice we could help the hospital waiting lists by steering them in the direction of back-street surgery. For a small fee patients can get any operation performed within hours of their first consultation. They will all be called Dr Nick.

Horse-whisperers: Who better to train a horse to do what it’s told than someone who has no compunction in punching the horse in the face because they know their mam and dad can’t say anything to them because they’re dead.

“Listen up you cunting nag, either you fucking sort yourself out and start cantering and galloping properly and stop that bucking and kicking or I’m going to tar the fucking life out of you, you long-faced, sugar lump loving cocksucker.”

Orphan makers: When they get a bit older and near the end of their usefulness we can get a boy orphan and a girl orphan, mate them and when the young are born we can kill the parents creating a brand new baby orphan who will have years ahead of it to serve Ireland in an orphantastic way.

Can you think of any more uses for orphans, kids?

New Dangermaus!

by Twenty Major on May 12th, 2005

The latest edition of everybody’s favourite site called Dangermaus has just been published. Go here now.

What have the Jews ever done to us?

by Twenty Major on May 12th, 2005

There was an outbreak of vandalism and graffiti in Dublin last night as the Jewish community found itself under attack. Anti-semetic slogans were painted on walls a the Jewish museum in Portobello, the Synagogue in Terenure and a Jewish graveyard in Dolphin’s Barn.

To the untrained eye it seems like mindless and petty thuggery but to the keen and all seeing eye, like mine, it can only mean one thing.

There’s been an outbreak of Palestinians in Dublin. All the evidence points to it. Targetting the Chief Rabbi, the massive increase in suicide graffiti artists and the opening of a suspicious looking restaurant on South William Street called ‘Yassers’.

As well as that Irish people have too many other people to dislike ahead of the Jews. Although Pope Mel Gibson XVI taught us that they, and they alone, were responsible for the death of our Lord Jesus Christ most of us take a more pragmatic view of that situation. Jesus was the very first crusty, wandering round in robes, with a shaggy beard and using poetry and ‘meaningful’ stories at every opportunity. As such most of us would have been glad to see the back of him if he’d been around now but would accept that the whole torture and cricifixion thing was a little on the harsh side.

When you look at it historically we have too many other groups to which we train our ire to bother with painting stuff like ‘On yer bikes, kikes!’ on walls. There’s the English for a start, closely followed by the Australians for coming over here and using intonation which makes you think every sentence is a question; the Welsh for not losing in rugby, our arch-enemies in the Isle of Man who have for so long brought terror to our world with their threats of biological and chemical warfare; Romanians - who have punished us for beating them in the World Cup by sending most of their population here to beg and scrounge a living off the hard-working people of our fair isle; the indecisive people of Northern Ireland - when are you lot going to make your minds up about anything?!; Finnish people who have ruined countless lives with their addictive glassware; those bastards from Equatorial New Guineau - you fuckers know why and don’t try and pretend you don’t; the dirty, no good population of Chad who make it their life’s work to finish off your crossword when you leave it down in the pub for just a second and go for a piss - you come back and they’ve finished your Simplex. That, my friends, is just the tip of the iceberg.

So as you can see there’s no possible way it was Irish people responsible for this vandalism and my Palestinian theory is the only possible explanation. Irish people are kind, tolerant and not at all destructive in any way - especially to the good people who provide us with delicious cakes in the Bretzel Bakery each morning.

As the song taught us so well so many years ago “Hey,Graffitiers, leave those Jews alone!”