Robin Williams

by Twenty Major on August 10th, 2006

What a fucking piss head he is. He’s just checked into a clinic for alcoholism and his agent said that he had “found himself drinking again”.

So obviously he’d gone on the piss, sobered up a bit and realised he’d gone on the piss. How do you find yourself drinking though? Is it a slow realisation that only happens after you’ve had a few beers or does it happen the minute you pick up a bottle?

I once found three nuns drinking two-litre bottles of Bulmer’s cider in Bushy Park having gone on the run from a nearby school. They were smoking, telling filthy jokes and leering at passers-by.

“Show us your balls, you ride ya!”, they yelled at a young man walking his dog before they collapsed into hysterics, slapping each other on the back.

“I’d fucking plough him six ways from Sunday”, said one of them.

Later they got more cider then got into a fight outside the chipper with rival nuns from a different order.

Nuns. They’re a fucking menace to society.

On Irish blogs

by Twenty Major on August 9th, 2006

Irish blogs aren’t as big as the big American blogs, so it’s said.

Frankly, I’m shocked. I was sure people writing about Bertie Ahern, Gerry Adams and how shit our hospitals are would have just as much relevance to a world audience as the war in Iraq, the Israeli/Lebanon conflict, the war on terror and George W Bush.

So how do we improve the Irish blogosphere and bring it more mainstream? Some suggestions:

1 - Every single Irish blogger should turn off their comments and write opinionated, politically charged posts. Then whenever anyone wants to respond they have to write a blog post of their own. Considering there must be thousands of comments on Irish blogs daily this increase in posting would make the Irish blogosphere the most prolific in the world thus garnering lucrative advertising and sponsorship deals for nearly every blogger.

2 - Bloggers must engage in clever marketing. If sitting beside a commuter reading a newspaper, the arch-enemy of the Irish blog, the blogger should hand over a business card with their web address on it and say “Dear sir or madam, I may or may not comment on some of the stories in that newspaper. If I gain enough readers maybe I can make the newspaper redundant and you can read my blog instead. Of course you’d have nothing to read on the DART each morning but hey, at least Irish blogs are relevant now”.

3 - The next time a blogger is on the radio and the presenter says “So what is a blog?”, pronouncing the word ‘blog’ like it was a piece of shit with corn in it they’d just seen a handicapped person dump on the floor, the blogger should respond “Oh for fuck’s sake we must have told you this a million fucking times, you cunts.”

Think of the publicity.

4 - Irish bloggers need to make and break news. Where are the Dan Rather scandals of the Irish blogosphere? A dedicated blogger would stalk politicians and their aides looking for stray scraps of paper that might suggest shady dealings.

“Meet Dunner in Bruxelles later to discuss bribes situation. CJH”.

It’s bound to pay off some time and the fact you’ve got restraining order and been fired for not going to work for 5 weeks won’t matter.

5 - Lobby for more immigrants. Irish blogs lag behind American and UK blogs simply because they have more people in their countries. There’s an easy solution, let more people into Ireland.

It would spark a housing boom which means there’d be loads more builders being paid in cash and standing the AIB in Rathmines every Friday with a wad of cash that they then put right back into the economy by going to the Lower Deck and getting fucking shitfaced which means more Chinese lounge girls are needed which means more people smugglers are required and soon the population will be sky-rocketing which means more people will read blogs.

Clever blogs would give away Irish passports as prizes on their sites.

6 - Let’s make Irish politics more interesting for the rest of the world by invading the Isle of Man. Let’s say we suspected they had weapons of mass destruction or bleat about regime change. Then all the ginger people in the Irish army can perform acts of atrocity upon the locals, Bertie can get his mates building firm to do all the repairs, Brian Cowen can skillfully evade difficult questions and all the while we’ll rape them for their greatest natural resource. The TT race track which we’ll bring back and put down in place of Mondello.

Then Potatopundit, the Daily K’Os and Meathithiannotes can rule the blogging world.

All we need is a little imagination, folks.

You’ll get yours in the end

by Twenty Major on August 8th, 2006

The door of Ron’s opened and there was a ‘tap’, ‘tap’, ‘tap’ across the tiled part of the floor.

At first we didn’t dare turn around in case it was Paul McCartney’s ex-wife but it turned out to be Johnny Blind, the most famous blind man in the neighbourhood.

“Good evening Twenty, Ron, Jimmy the Bollix, Lucky Luciano and Splodge and all the complete strangers in here I’ve never met”, he said, pointedly not saying hello to Dirty Dave.

Many years ago Johnny, who wasn’t blind, and Dave were great mates. Then came the game of stickball. Sort of like baseball but because we were poor in those days it was played with a plank of wood stolen from a lumber yard and a rock instead of a ball.

Johnny was bowling, Dave batting and he smacked one that hit Johnny right between his eyes so perfectly it made both of his eyes pop right out of his head and hang there on stalks.

Naturally we all ran off and by the time Johnny got to hospital they’d dried out completely and he would never see again. He blames Dave for his lack of eyesight, as you might imagine, and has always promised to get his revenge by blinding him in the same way.

Obviously he’s got a small problem in that nobody will play stickball with him and when he does try and throw things at Dave’s head he misses. He once hit Jimmy in the ear with an ashtray for which Jimmy got his revenge by blowing a snot rocket in Johnny’s pint then writing ‘I am a blind cunt’ on the back of his jacket with Tippex.

“The usual?”, asked Ron.

“Please”, he replied. He always asks for a pint of Heineken. Ron always gives him a pint of Carlsberg.

“Here lads!”, exclaimed Dirty Dave. “Did you SEE that new Superman fillum yet? I’ve WATCHED it 6 times. The colours are so real. Like nothing I’ve ever SEEN before.”

“Here we go again”, said Johnny Blind. “I knew you were here, Dave. I smelt you the minute I walked through the door. Due to my lack of sight my other senses are near superhuman. I can smell you from miles off, I can hear that you’re wearing corduoroy pants, I can taste the fact that you’ve been near the bar because there’s a hint of dried poo off this glass and I know you’ve sat here in the last couple of weeks because there’s a sticky residue off the bar that I can feel with my fingertips.”

“Yeah, but you’ll never be able to LOOK at the pictures of me riding your ma. She loved it.”

“You fucking shitebag, Dirty Dave”, said Johnny and he flung his white stick through the air and it, uncannily, hit Dave right between the eyes.

“How’dya like them apples?”, roared Johnny Blind knowing where the stick had landed due to his super-strength hearing.

Of course Dave wasn’t blinded one little bit and when Johnny went to go for a piss Dave tripped him up and made him land on his teeth.

Now we call him Jawsy Blind.

Booze fitness

by Twenty Major on August 7th, 2006

You know the way that if you want to get fit you start running and exercising? At first you suffer because your muscles and atrophyed from years of sitting at bar stools and doing fuck all but after a time they start to build up and the more you exercise the fitter you become.

You can run faster, further and you become fitter, happier and more productive. It requires constant exercise though. If you only do it once in a while you suffer afterwards so the trick is to do it regularly.

So, I was thinking that why shouldn’t the same apply to booze? If you only go out and drink once in a while you suffer from hangovers the next day. Your poo turns to lava and you body and limbs and torso and skin and organs and digits and extremities ache.

So for the last two weeks I have been drinking every single night and at first it hurts a bit but after about a week the hangovers just don’t appear any more.

Yes, there’s a certain amount of tiredness and an initial feeling of ming when you wake up and have to get out of bed but after that it’s fine. Let me give you a good example.

Start at 4pm in a restaurant and drink two bottles of wine, then a few pints until 10pm then move on to Havana Club and coke with a slice of lime until the night is over. You don’t remember getting home, you certainly don’t know how you ended up in bed with just a pair of football shorts on but what you do know is that by rights you should have an unmerciful hangover but you don’t.

Take Johnny Worker off the street and make him drink that much and the next day he’ll be pleading to be put down but if that kind of a session comes after at least 7 days of drinking every night then you will be fine and quite ready to go out and do it all again the next night.

So as you build up your atheltic fitness you can do the same with your booze fitness. Try it, you’ll see I’m right.

I’m now so booze fit I’m never going to stop. Drunkeness without hangovers. My life is complete.

What a funny dream

by Twenty Major on August 5th, 2006

I dreamt you all died. It’s not true, is it?

Anyone who is dead please email me so I can burgle your house. Thanks.

Live healthy, eh?!

by Twenty Major on August 4th, 2006

Due to the fact I’m fond of a pint or two, or three now and again, my doctor advised me that I need to ensure I have a healthy diet.

He says “Although a fried breakfast soaks up the booze and takes away the pain you need to eat more fruits and vegetables.”

Fuckin spoilsport but I figure he has some idea what he’s talking about. So yesterday I went down to Superquinn and browsed the fruit section for a healthier breakfast.

I bypassed bananas because they were too dry and apples because they’re too crunchy. Seriously, added to the noises I hate is the crunch of someone eating an apple, even if it’s me. Every time I take a bite I have to punch myself in the head for making crunching noises so it’s a painful experience.

I toyed with the idea of some kind of fruit cocktail (trying so hard not to make any obvious jokes here) but in the end I settled for grapefruit. Juicy, refreshing and tangy enough to counter the fact my mouth is always as dry as a camel’s quim when I wake up.

So this morning I got up, halved a grapefruit, took out a spoon and went to take a segment only to be shot in the eye with grapefruit juice.

My left eye now looks like someone maced me. Fucking cunt of a doctor. 2 rashers, a couple of sausages, white pudding and a fried tomato never blinded me.

Healthy option my hoop.

Impeccable reasoning

by Twenty Major on August 3rd, 2006

“You know something, Twenty?”, said Dirty Dave.

“What’s that, Dirty Dave”, I replied.

“I’ve been thinking - don’t say it! It didn’t hurt, har har - but I’ve come to the conclusion that Arabs must be absolutely shit at fighting.”

“Why’s that then?”

“Well, I was looking at Wikipedia to get some background on this whole situation in Israel and Lebanan and according to them there are only around 14.5m Jews in the whole world.”

“Go on…”

“Well, Arabs have hated Jews for centuries and they’ve been warring on and off for as long as anyone can remember.”

“And?”

“Well, there are fucking millions of Arabs. Far more than there are Jews so considering how powerful some Jewish people are and the fact they they have their own country right beside a load of Arabs you have to think that Arabs are completely crap at fighting.”

“Hmmm, interesting. On the other hand it could just mean that Jews, as well as being excellent for balancing your chequebook and dispensing other financial advice, are really fucking good at fighting. I mean, if you were no good at it why would you make your country right in the middle of a load of other countries who hate you?”

“That is a good point. Like if you went to a bar and you sat at a table surrounded by all your enemies. Only a double-hard bastard would attempt anything so crazy. Jews are like Bruce Willis from the Die Hard movies. Totally outnumbered by people who want to kill him but are so crap at shooting their guns in his face he always manages to fight them off and save the day.”

“I do like the way your mind works sometimes, Dave. You’d have to wonder why there’s never been a Jewish heavyweight champion of the world though.”

Cold food

by Twenty Major on August 2nd, 2006

During yesterday’s highly charged itellectual discussion about noises that are hateable somebody mentioned baked beans and baked beans are fantastic.

In Ireland there are Heinz baked beans and Bachelors baked beans but Heinz are the only option. Now, most people like them heated up and served on toast or accompanying a wide range of fine dishes such as chicken and chips, steak and chips or lobster and chips to name but three.

I, however, like them cold. I just open the tin, get a fork and dig in. It’s a veritable taste sensation and it’s because they’re cold. I prefer a lot of hot food when it’s cold, such as pizza, lasagne, many varieties of pie, quiche and many more.

There’s something more flavoursome about the food once it’s gone cold. If I do order a pizza, which I don’t anymore since I discovered you could put slices of snake meat on it if you wanted, I generally eat a bit and then chuck the rest in the fridge to eat the next day. The coldness enhances all the flavours of the delicately prepared sauce that came out of an industrial sized drum and the top quality toppings.

Take last night as an example. Two regulars in Ron’s this last year have decided they have to go back and live in England for some reason so we had a bit of a session.

Waiting for me in the fridge, or on the counter top as I don’t really remember coming home, should be delicious cold chips, half a battered sausage, a spice burger and a couple of onion rings. Mmmmmm, it’s a taste sensation!

The only thing I don’t like cold is fish. I like my fish warm and moist. What about you?

Noises I hate

by Twenty Major on August 1st, 2006

There are some noises which I can put up with but others that make me want to kill and maim and smash things (such as people’s teeth). Here’s a list in no particular order.

1 - People kissing: Two lovebirds came into Ron’s the other night and sat at the bar drinking very little (not clever) and smooching lots. They would talk for a while then go:

*smack* *slurp* *smack* *smack* *slurp* *mmmmm* *mnaaaaah* *smack*

Now, not being complete cunts and being quite touched (but not in a good physical way) by young love we let things slide at first. Then we gave the nod to Ron who was unimpressed at the two Coca-Colas they’d bought in 45 minutes.

“STOP THAT FUCKING KISSING AND BUY A DRINK OR FUCK OFF!”, he suggested.

To be fair to them they got down to a few scoops and left their kissing for the outside. It’s not fun to listen to though.

2 - Cinema eaters: People that eat in the cinema. Every crunch is multiplied. Nachos are for Mexicans. I hate the smell of popcorn. Ohhh, you’re having a hotdog, you cunt. Die. Just die.

I’ll wait for the DVD, muching wankers.

3 - Hidden noises: Parts of songs that you only hear when you’re drunk or stoned but from then on you can never hear the song without that noise being foremost in the tune.

I can’t think of any examples right now, being too drunk, but I’m sure you all know what I mean.

4 - The sound of your head hitting concrete: It must have happened to you. You fall. Your head snaps back and whacks off the ground behind you.

There’s a thud then a few horrible moments when you wait for the pain to start and that weird taste behind your nose to kick in. The thud is just minging though.

5 - The telephone: I hate when the phone rings. It just makes me think there’s bad news coming. And similar to this any ring tone or phone noise that isn’t *bring bring* is just painful.

A phone should sound like a fucking phone not like a cunting jukebox.

6 - Ice clinking: But only when you’re on the phone to someone else and you’re dying for a drink and it’s quite obvious they have one.

7 - Police sirens: Look either you’re after me or you’re not but don’t come tearing up behind me, sirens blazing, only to pull out and keep on driving.

That’s just rude.

8 - People that go ‘pfffffssssss’ when they smoke a joint: Look, I know it’s good grass and 15 minnutes from now you’re not going to remember your own name but don’t do that stupid movie sound when you take a pull on it.

Just smoke it like a normal person. The theatrics won’t make me think you’re cool. They’ll make me think you’re a noisy smoker and nobody likes that.

9 - The Angelus: Bong. Is that it? Get with the times.

There’s loads more. Too many beers to think of them now though.