Archive for June, 2006
Stab vests
by Twenty Major on June 20th, 2006
Emergency workers in Dublin could be issued with ’stab vests’ as the number of attacks on them increases. Apparently one fireman needed 35 stitches in his face after being hit with a bottle.
Outrageous. The only time you should bottle a fireman is if you come home and find him in bed with your wife. Or your teenage daughter. Or both at the same time.
Bottling somebody who’s been called out to try and put out a fire is more than a bit wrong. I can understand people attacking the police. It’s to do with the nature of their jobs but you really have to question the intelligence of somebody who attacks fire brigade or ambulance workers.
If you ask me the very least they should be issued with is tazers as well. If they’re trying to put out a fire or cut someone out of wreckage or piece somebody back together after a domestic dispute escalated into throwing somebody out of a window and they get attacked then they need to be able to defend themselves.
Those tazer things hurt like fuck apparently so they should taze their attacker in the eyes. Firstly the little spikes in their eyes would certainly smart and then when you ran an electric current through their eyes and into their teeny-tiny brains they’d think twice about attacking a fireman or ambulanceman again.
What would be even better is if they had a special suit which emitted a forcefield around it and when the oncoming skanger tried to get close to give them a smack they’d run into it and crash down like the poor old Silver Surfer every time he tried to escape from the Earth’s atmosphere.
Or we should create a scientific programme which harvests embryonic and adult stem cells (to keep everyone happy!) and look for the Manimal gene which would enable the emergency worker to mutate into a panther or a hawk and then savage or indeed poo on the attacker from a great height.
As people debate the morality of stem cells and the possibility of curing degenerative diseases they’re totally overlooking the cool stuff you could do. Like making a fireman turn into a big black cat.
Let the debate begin.
10 things I would ban if I was Taoiseach
by Twenty Major on June 19th, 2006
I’m thinking of running for Taoiseach as an independent candidate. As a man of means I would have no need to steal money from the people of Ireland and nobody could ever accuse me of living a lifestyle that I couldn’t afford.
I would bring strong leadership to a country that needs it and what better way to show it that banning things. Banning things is the true mark of a decisive leader. So as part of my upcoming campaign here are some of things I would ban.
1 - The accordian: An instrument played by cunts for cunts. Anyone found with an accordian will be beheaded.
2 - Chewing gum: Especially strawberry flavour but especially Nicorette gum. If you want to quit smoking there’s no need for you to take up a far more disgusting habit.
3 - The unholy trinity: Brian Kennedy, Damien Rice and David Grey will all be prohibited from creating any new music and any existing works will be exported at en masse to Iceland as punishment for Bjork.
4 - People who can’t speak English: You know, when I order something in a bar or a restaurant and ask for something in a shop and the person looks at me like I’m speaking in some kind of ‘click click beep beep’ language that’s a cross between R2D2 and a space alien I find it kind of frustrating.
If you want to work in a service industry it’s a good idea if you can understand WHAT THE FUCKING CUSTOMERS ARE SAYING TO YOU, YOU CUNT. So they’re banned and so are the minimum wage paying, scabby cunt bosses that hire them.
5 - Pigeons: Stop dive bombing me you fuckers. Banned.
6 - Reality TV: Television for cretins by cretins and starring cretins. The only reality TV show I would allow is one where anybody made famous by reality TV is put into a house to live with all the other z-list cunts and one by one the public votes for the one they want to put into a giant blender set up on College Green. The winner is the last one remaining and they’ll be pissed on, rubbed in their own shite and then blended just to make them feel extra special.
7 - Jennifer Lopez: Ireland has little enough sunshine as it is. We don’t need that bitch coming here and blocking it out with her giant arse.
8 - Shandy: Fuck off, you soft twat. Have a beer or have a lemonade. Don’t mix them.
9 - TV3 news: Instead they will be forced to broadcast a picture of an arse with a poo half in and half out. Children will be forced to watch as they will learn much more about the world than listening to Alan fucking Cuntwell and that Ursula Hannigan yoke.
10 - Free entry into Ireland: Anyone from outside Ireland who wants to come and live here will have to pay a €10,000 entry fee. As soon as they start to work they can claim it back in monthly installments. If they don’t work they don’t get anything. No social welfare, none of their entry fee back. Nothing.
If I have to reclassify Ireland as Europe’s largest theme park then that’s what I’ll fucking do.
So there’s 10 off the top of my head. Obviously there are plenty more so it’s over to you. Best suggestion gets a place in the cabinet as Minister of doing whatever they like.
Bloomsday cancelled
by Twenty Major on June 15th, 2006
That fucking Haughey mocks us even in death.
His funeral can take place any old day. The chance for a bunch of nitwits to parade around in celebration of Ireland’s most unreadable work of literature only comes around once a year.
Go on the Egypt!
by Twenty Major on June 15th, 2006
Not only have the Egyptians given us the pyramids, the sphinx, the Valley of the Kings, Omar Sharif and Boutros Boutros-Ghali they are now making their most important contribution to civilisation.
Yesterday Egypt’s culture minister said he would be seeking to ban both the book and the film of the Da Vinci Code. And the Egyptial film censor said “I can’t ban something I haven’t seen, but if it violates religions, it will be banned according to law, not me. If the movie is anything like the book, it will be banned.”
Brilliant, well in you pharaohs. The book is exactly like the film, fucking shit.
I think what we need to do is a create a new religion in which we worship the God of all that is not fucking shit. We will call him Archibald. Then when fucking shit things are released to the public, such as the Da Vinci Code, a Damien Rice album, Paris Hilton, a Brendan Grace DVD, Ryan Tubridy’s radio show, any episode of the Late Late hosted by Pat Kenny, anything by Brian Kennedy or another series of celebrity Jigs and Reels we can deem it anti-religious and have it banned.
Not only that we can charge the perpetrators with blasphemy and have them put to death.
Let’s face it, Dan Brown should have been banned at birth.
I knew an Egyptian girl in my youth. What a looker she was but man was she a pain in the asp.
Ahhh, he was a great lad really…
by Twenty Major on June 14th, 2006
Just cos a cunt is dead doesn’t mean he wasn’t a cunt. - This person (the last post on the page).
Naturally he was discussing Charles Haughey but the point is an excellent one. There was a bloke who used to hang around Ron’s a few years back called Enda McNicholas.
He was a fucking turd of a man. He was a cheapskate who hardly ever bought anyone a pint despite the fact he was never short of a few bob.
He had a lovely wife who would come and pick him up when he was in his cups and he would belittle her every single time she came into the bar. It was awful. She was such a sweet woman and he’d stand there and crack feeble jokes which made nobody laugh and made her squirm with shame and embarassment. The fact that he was having a long term affair with a gossip columnist made it worse. Everybody knew. I suppose even she knew but it was just never spoken of.
He was aggressive when he never had any need to be and a coward when he should have stood up to be counted. He would do things then try and blame other people.
He was an inveterate liar who invented a murky past and stories which couldn’t possibly have been true in a vain attempt to be vaguely interesting.
He was a petty thief who preyed on people in wheelchairs, old ladies and handicapped children.
He smuggled arms into the country for the IRA.
All in all he was really not a nice person and when he was beaten to death one night nobody even slightly upset.
Not till the day of the funeral though. His poor old wife asked Ron if she could have the afters in his place. He laid on the tea and coffee and the soup and sandwiches and after the cunt had been buried in Mount Carmel cemetery we all came back.
You’d swear we’d buried the pope the way people were talking.
“Ahh sure he was a grand man really.”
“Don’t we all have our faults? He was no different.”
“Let he who is without … erm … whatever that is … throw the first … erm … whatever it was”. Dirty Dave is not well up on his scripture.
After listening to this for a while though Jimmy the Bollix couldn’t stands no more and he had to say something.
“You fuckers are full of shit. This man was a fucking shyster and a spiv all his life. He said one thing and did another. He told us how to live our lives frugally while he fucked off to Paris with his newspaper column writing girlfriend and did her six ways from Sunday in a suite in the Ritz which cost more for one night than your average man earns in a month. He stole. He made his fortune by fucking over the ordinary man and I don’t mean Christy cunting Moore. He, a rich man already, took money from rich people so that they could make themselves richer at other people’s expense. He looked after his buddies once his buddies paid him enough money. He was a cheat, a crook, a seasoned fabulist, a man who would move the pieces on a chessboard if you went to take a piss, a man who only ever acted in his own self-interest and here you all are saying he’s a great man. You fucking cunts make me sick.”
“Jaysus, Jimmy”, said Stinking Pete. “A bit of respect. This is the man’s wake. His wife is standing right beside you.”
“No, he’s right”, said his wife. “I’m glad he’s dead. He humiliated me in public time and time again. I only stayed with him because how else could I continue to enjoy the lifestyle he provided?”
Nobody raised a glass to him that day because nobody could be arsed filling up a pint glass with their own piss.
Haughey’s dead
by Twenty Major on June 13th, 2006
Let the revisionism begin…
Odds on everyone saying Charlie was a great leader, wonderful man, rogue character, we are all like Charlie etc etc - 10-1 on
How many people will bring up his attempt to bring down McCracken, decades of corruption, endemic cronyism…. 50-1
From Gavin.
I’d cut that 10-1 down to 1-2 on and push up the 50-1 to 1000-1. Nobody who dies is ever a bad person even if they were the biggest fucking crook anybody had ever seen and that’s without knowing the half of it, I’d wager.
Look at Diana. Before she allegedly shot bits of my old French chum out of her arse she was a slut banging every darkie heart surgeon she could get her hands on. Afterwards she was a saint.
No tears from me that the slippery old cunt is dead.
A state funeral, you say? Maybe I’ll chuck some eggs at the hearse, get my money’s worth.
——–
They just don’t get it. How many times do we have to spell it out? If he hadn’t robbed his best mate’s liver money we wouldn’t have the Celtic Tiger. - big heh for Blogorrah.
Football and Italians
by Twenty Major on June 13th, 2006
Ron has a nice big plasma screen in his place so we can watch the World Cup. The group stages are great. Roll in around ten to two and then sup pints and watch football until 10 at night.
Normally it’s relatively quiet but after enjoying Australia beat Japan with a late, late show better than anything Pat Kenny has ever done and the Czech Republic thrasing the USA 3-0 the last game of the day was Italy v Ghana.
Lucky Luciano invited some of his Italian friends to watch the game in Ron’s and they took time out from their waiting jobs and from cooking chips for most of the city to come and drink and watch football and enjoy the World Cup fever everyone has got.
There was Mario, Luigi, Luca, another Luca, another Luca, Marino, Antonio, Alessandro, Matteo, Alberto, Giuseppe, Fortunato and Roberto. Fair fucks to them, they drank like absolute cunts and then the game started and they drank even more. Pints too, none of those half-arsed glasses of beer or glasses of wine (which are ok at home but not ok in a pub, let’s be honest).
They’re very passionate about their football and even though there were lots of Italians Ron does not allow foreign languages to be spoken in his bar (bar certain phrases) so they had to remonstrate and gesticulate in English.
“Totti, you a focking piece of a sheet. You a mama she suck a de cock in the streets of Napoli”
“Oooh Mama, Pirlo, this is a not a pass. This is a focking present to the Africanos, cazza di merda!”
“Pirlo, you are a dirty shit on the a bottom of a my underpants. I a hate you. We should a leave you in a Roma.”
Pirlo shoots and scores.
“Pirlo! You are a the best. I a love you.”
In the second half Ghana were pressing for an equaliser and Italy were playing catenaccio (really typical Italian defensive football).
“Camoranesi, you a look like a de focking red indian. Spend a more time practice a football and less looking like a Wella woman and we can a tell a Wella woman a by the way she a wear her hair.”
“Iaquinta you need to stop a being a shit and remember Paolo Rossi or a Marco Tardelli. If you ever a come in my chip shop I a spit in your scampi.”
Ianquinta scores the second goal which seals the game for Italy.
“Iaquinta I a love you. You a marry my daughter. Only marry though. No a sex or I cut you cazzo off.”
In the end Italy won 2-0. The Italians drank some more and off they went to God knows where.
Tomorrow it’s South Korea and Togo, France v Switzerland and Brazil v Croatia. Luckily we don’t have any regulars from those countries.
We used to have a Frenchie, Rapping Robert (Rob-errrrrrr), who would bust a rhyme about Michel Platini, the Louvre and the TGV at the drop of a beret.
He died after shining a light into the eyes of Princess Diana’s driver all those years ago. When the car smooshed him into the concrete pillar they just made out his remains were bits of Diana that had shot out of her arse on impact.
Allez les bleus.
Pizza delivery in Dublin
by Twenty Major on June 12th, 2006
I’m sure lots of you of my fellow Dubliners order pizza by telephone every now and again. It’s a grand bit of a meal really.
Granted it’s nothing like you’d get in Italy, Lucky Luciano says he hasn’t yet found a pizza he’d wipe his arse with let alone eat, but beggars and choosers and all that. How far wrong can you go with a pizza?
Anyway, the other night I went out for a little while and left Dirty Dave over at my place. He’s got podcast fever, the mad cunt, and he was off doing his stuff again.
This time he rang up 8 branches of the same Dublin pizza chain and asked them if they would be able to put a special ingredient on a Hawaiian pizza for him. The special ingredient happened to be slices of snake meat. To be precise it was cured reticulated python that his brother had brought back from a recent trip to South-east Asia.
Surely none of them would allow him to put slices of snake meat on a pizza in their oven. Well, download the podcast and see what happened for yourself.
There’s no question it’s a perfect indictment of the service industry in Ireland at the moment.
Take it away, Dave: Pizza Podcast - 9.83mb
Nikki Brown from the LA Times
by Twenty Major on June 9th, 2006
Yesterday I got a lovely email from a girl called Nikki Brown who apparently works for the LA Times.
She sent me an email, out of the goodness of her heart, because she wanted to give me a break from the more mundane news stories and that the stories she sent would be ‘off-beat and worth of conversation’.
Let’s examine those stories:
1 - Whatever happened to the class of 90210? Firstly, I’m sure they’re all retired now as they were 40-something when the show first came out and secondly who gives a fuck?
2- A story about how some magic pouring device affects the tannins in red wine and makes cheap wines taste better. Truly fascinating. Anyone who drinks cheap red wine deserves everything they get.
3 - A biography of Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie’s baby. No, really. Must quite a read.
That baby has done so much in its short life.
4 - A story about a 9 year old pirate who died when he was 9. Another of life’s great achievers.
5 - Some schools ban MySpace. Some don’t. Shock horror.
6 - Midget rodeo. Fucking little cunts on their Shetland ponies.
And she calls the rest of the news mundane?
Yesterday we had a chief terrorist blown to shite, 3 kids not allowed to do their exams because their hair was too short, 200+ drink drivers about to be set free and Hitler’s bunker identified in Berlin.
Much more interesting than the LA Times shite. I’m still not sure why she emailed me though but I hope she stops before my heart gives in to all the excitement and simply explodes in my chest.
Also, Jimmy the Bollix once worked at the Beverly Hills hotel when yer woman with the wonky eye and buck teeth from 90210 came along and propositioned him. He fled for his very life.