So it’s into year two…
Posted in Old blogger, de-punz by Twenty Major on September 29th, 2005
…and it starts with a hangover. Not that I was out celebrating the birthday or anything but Thursday night is always good for a few pints. It’s close enough to Friday so you can scrape through the Friday no matter how rough you feel. There’s always the Friday evening pints to put a bit of life back into you.
Anyway, I went around to Ron’s and there was a bit of gentle ribbing about the blog thing.
“You soft cunt”, said Jimmy. “You’ll be celebrating your first shag next. When you get it. You VIRGIN”
“I wish you wouldn’t make me out to be such a loser, Twenty”, said Dirty Dave. “I’m like a clumsy, stupid fool always making a show of myself.”
“Thanks for telling everyone I’m stinking”, said Pete.
“That’ll be €3.90, Twenty”, said Ron with his hand out. “Oh, wait”, he paused, “seeing as it’s your gay website’s birthday an’ all…make it an even €4.”
So we had a few pints, discussed the state of the world, decided it was all the fault of the politicians, Jews, Arabs, Muslims, Catholics and Phil Collins fans and had a few more pints.
Then in walked a stranger, although he did look familiar. He ordered a pint of Guinness and from his accent Jimmy had him copped as a Norwegian straight away. Jimmy lived for a couple of years in Oslo, went out with a Swedish girl and had a Finnish butler so he knows one from the other even if they sound exactly the same to you and me. Meanwhile Dave ordered one of Ron’s famous sirloin sandwiches. A great hunk of meat, nice and bloody in the middle, between two massive doorsteps of batch loaf.
So the Norwegian sat at the bar humming to himself and doing nobody any harm whatsoever. He had a guidebook to Dublin and given how we were all feeling good and charaitable (it is nearly Christmas after all) we decided we’d give him a hand.
“Need some recommendations or anything?” I asked.
“That’d be great!” he said. “My name is Morten, it’s my first time in Dublin and I’d love to know my way around a bit better.”
“No worries, Morten. Me and Jimmy here will sort you out, give you the full flavour of the Fair City.”
So we told him which bars he should go to, the sights he should see, the places he should go, the bars he could shelter in the rain from, the bars he could run to while waiting for the rain to stop and so on. Then he asked about food.
“What about the restaurants?”
“Ahhh, there’s loads of those. Full of Irish beef, Irish lamb, Irish sausages, black pudding, lamb stews, a bit of coddle, bee-”
“Erm, the thing is I’m a vegetarian. I have been ever since me and my band travelled around America and on one of our days off we were brought to a veal ranch and it made me sick. All those poor baby veals with their legs broken in little boxes so they don’t make their meat stringy and tough. It was disgusting. And to this day I’ve never seen an adult veal, which is a bit of a mystery, but still. Ever since then I’ve been off meat.’
I looked at Jimmy. Jimmy looked at me. We know that vegetarianism is a terrible disease which leads to gayness and anal sex with other men but seeing as it was a tourist and all we thought it best not to say anything. Norwegians are all right, really. They’re certainly preferable to the influx of Portuguese we’ve been getting.
“Well, to tell you the truth, Morten”, I said, “I really don’t know any vegetarian restaurants. I’m a carnivore. Every meal I eat must contain meat of some kind, be it beef, lamb, chicken, duck, veal, turkey, pork, horse, venison, aardvark…whatever. Everything except monkey. Those cunts taste like shit.”
“Oh no” he said. “Meat appalls me. I can’t even bear to be near it.”
Right then Dave had picked up his sandwich from Ron and was coming over to introduce himself and join in. Dave being Dave though tripped over the nothing that was on the carpet and his plate went flying. Slow motion it was. The plate fell. The bread came away and soon there was a massive chunk of sizzling beef heading straight towards our new pal. Nobody said a word. We were all wide eyed just following its flight through the air.
Eventually it landed straight in Morten’s face and slid down his front into his lap. I could see the juicy blood dripping from his chin. There was silence for just a moment then he jumped up shrieking.
“AAAAAAAAAAH. STEAK OOOOOON MEEEEEEE! STEAK ON ME.”
“Well, I’ll be gone”, said Dave and got his coat.
Next time I’ll tell you about Dave, Boy George and the Chameleon that got what was coming to him.
fatmammycat says:
Oh Twenty, I laughed until I had a stitch on that one.Initially I thought it was the Vodka, but no, it was really very funny. ‘I’ll beee gonneee.’ Did he do it in the high pitch too?
September 29th, 2005 at 10:44 pm
Twenty Major says:
Do you even need to ask, FMC?
September 29th, 2005 at 10:52 pm
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jenE says:
And Dave asks why he’s always portrayed as a bumbling, clumsy oaf…
September 30th, 2005 at 12:01 am
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Jaffrey says:
another year, another classic post. i hate fucking vegie lovers. serves that bastard right.
September 30th, 2005 at 1:34 am
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nick says:
that name ‘Morten’ sure ya werent nickin that from the band Aha?
remember Morten ‘Take me on’Harket, sure wasnt he one of them noregian/swedish nordish type of fellas?
September 30th, 2005 at 8:27 am
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Anonymous says:
**WOOOOOOOSH**
That’s the sound of the whole post going over Nick’s head.
September 30th, 2005 at 8:36 am
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Nick says:
No the post is not going over my head I understand the general jist of the post - Im just questioning the fact that one of the protaganists of the story happens to be Norwegian and his name is Morten it stinks of AHA plagairism
September 30th, 2005 at 9:03 am
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Nick says:
just pullin the Michael Twenty…
September 30th, 2005 at 9:31 am
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MacDara says:
Twenty if you get any funnier I’m going to have to start wearing nappies.
September 30th, 2005 at 9:40 am
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Sinéad says:
Twenty, I’m worried.
I was able to predict the end of that post before I scrolled down. Either you’re losing your edge or I’m turning into Mystic “you will be offered a job by a tall man, who drives a red car and has a yellow front door” Meg .
Say it ain’t so for either of us…
September 30th, 2005 at 9:42 am
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Johnny5 says:
Fucking disgusting behaviour.
You let that shit stabbing, half comic book, Norwegian whiner sit in your bar without ramming several forks into his face?
You’ve lost your appetite twenty.
September 30th, 2005 at 10:29 am
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asbo says:
You should have force-fed the cunt
when you had him,do you not realise
how hard it is to capture one of
these Fuckers out of their natural
habitat?You could’ve posed with him
for a few snaps and posted them on the net,maybe swop them for?????
September 30th, 2005 at 10:51 am
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Moriarty says:
Well done Twenty on 365 days of backslapping smugcuntness. You backslapping smug cunt.
September 30th, 2005 at 1:12 pm
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Nick says:
Ya should have picked up the big 12lb steak Twenty and fukin lamped him over the fackin head so all the meat and bloody juice went all over his little Norwiegen head - then Ron should have come out with another sirloin steak (bloodied mind you)and feckin pegged it at him - what a larf that would be -
September 30th, 2005 at 1:52 pm
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Priapist says:
Norwegians can’t hum!
Something to do with the fjords I hear.
September 30th, 2005 at 3:05 pm
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Anonymous says:
what is it with the norweigen blood lust all of a sudden..
September 30th, 2005 at 3:47 pm
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Johnny5 says:
I blame the Rossport 5.
September 30th, 2005 at 4:13 pm
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jenE says:
i’ve got norwegian bloodlust every day. minnesota is rife with viking descendants that say “Ya” and “You betcha” and “O My” all day long.
When I go back home to visit, I get made fun of for my MinnesOta accent (I’ve lived there for five years, now)…then I stab whomever said it in the eyeball. Then I drink some more.
September 30th, 2005 at 5:39 pm
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Steven says:
Will someone who in Ohio find “Mike” and cut his balls off? Thank you.
October 2nd, 2005 at 3:48 am
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