Monthly Archives: March 2007
Get out of my way
Walking through town earlier when out from a shop emerged a small planet disguised as a very ugly woman. Without even seeing me she stepped into my path and proceeded to walk as slowly as she possibly could. It all … Continue reading
What pet would you have
“Twenty”, said Dirty Dave, “if you had to choose a pet what would you choose from a Liger (a cross between a lion and a tiger), a talking horse or an Eskimo?” “Well Dirty Dave”, I replied, “I already have … Continue reading
Blogging code of conduct
After a high profile blogger in the US received death threats some bloggers stopped blogging in sympathy and others, such as Tim O’Reilly (founder of hilarious image catchphrase O RLY?) have proposed a code of conduct for blogging. Some people … Continue reading
I told you they were stupid
Back in October, after a series of high profile car crashes which cost people their lives, the hand wringing in the media was something to behold. All kinds of measures were called for to cut down on the deaths on … Continue reading
Seoige and O’Shea
For those of you outside of Ireland this is an afternoon chat show presented by Grainne (Graw-nya) Seoige (Show-igga) and Joe (Boring) O’Shea (Cunt). Grainne is quite pretty and glamorous and used to be a newsreader and she made the … Continue reading
If I had my own radio station – Part 1
I’d certainly get somebody like George Cook to present the drivetime show.
Out of the ordinary
I don’t normally do those linky types of posts but these two have to be seen. 1 – Lung the Younger nails it like a common carpenter. 2 – What if the Hindenberg disaster had been Twittered (via Linkmachinego)
Get a fucking life
Some lady called Grainne Kelly of Europe Against Drugs (Eurad) international has gotten her knickers in a twist over some song played at the Fianna Fail Ard Fheis. The song ( The Chelsea Dagger track by Scottish band The Fratellis … Continue reading
Cheers
To everyone for their kind words in relation to the book deal thing. There are just too many links to trackback to but let me say here and now that if I manage to secure a multi-million film rights advance … Continue reading
Well don’t have children then
Frivolous law suits are becoming the norm these days. America sets the trend and we follow. The other week we had the guy who sued the newspaper because they took a picture of him with his chopper hanging out of … Continue reading
Frivolous law suits are becoming the norm these days. America sets the trend and we follow. The other week we had the guy who sued the newspaper because they took a picture of him with his chopper hanging out of his football shorts. For some reason he didn’t want anyone to know he had a penis.
Now there’s the bloke who fainted while his wife was giving birth and broke his jaw when he hit the ground. He says the hospital failed to notice his jaw was broken but look here mister, if you have a problem with seeing a bloody, alien looking creature emerge slowly from your wife’s vagina then perhaps you should stay in the waiting room and read OK Weekly or something.
Back in the day it was always customary for fathers to wait in the waiting room while the mothers did all the hard work then the fathers would come in, pat both mother and child on the head, say “Well done me auld brood mare”, hand out cigars to everyone then bugger off down the pub to get pissed as a cunt.
Dirty Dave’s father was a revolutionary though. He insisted that childbirth must a joyous, wondrous thing and demanded that he be present at the emergence of his son into the world. It wasn’t a good idea. Poor old Dirty Dave, due his enormous pumpkin shaped head, had a difficult entrance into the world and his poor old mother had to have 98 stitches.
Dave’s father had positioned himself at the end of the bed to get a good look and afterwards was ashen-faced and silent. He said nothing to his wife. He barely looked at his son. The cigars he planned to give out were thrown away and he went down to Ron’s Dad’s bar and sat on his normal stool and drank pints of stout with whiskey chasers till closing time. Despite people’s best efforts to engage him in conversation he said nothing until he left.
He looked at Ron’s Dad and said “The Gee. The Gee”, and walked out.
Nobody ever saw him again.