Well don’t have children then
Posted on | March 23, 2007 | 22 Comments
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.
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22 Responses to “Well don’t have children then”
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March 23rd, 2007 @ 11:24 am
Had he never seen one before or did he go looking for a new one ?
March 23rd, 2007 @ 12:34 pm
“The Gee. The Gee” …is that clarified butter then?
March 23rd, 2007 @ 12:41 pm
nah, he was looking for his horse.
March 23rd, 2007 @ 12:46 pm
The Swearing Gentleman hasn’t been able to play Silent Hill since he saw our young wan pop out. 4 pints of blood, I needed.
March 23rd, 2007 @ 1:03 pm
Its a nasty business
March 23rd, 2007 @ 1:16 pm
They always said that if the father had the second child, there would never be a third!
March 23rd, 2007 @ 1:42 pm
“They always said that if the father had the second child, there would never be a third!”
I think it was Turd.
March 23rd, 2007 @ 2:08 pm
teary eyes…uhhhhh, poor Dave’s mummy, but what a clean sweep a new baby a nicely stitched cranny, and got rid of the old whinger at the same time – like winning Lotto that is.
March 23rd, 2007 @ 2:18 pm
Top tip for future dads: stay at the woman’s head end of the delivery bed.
You can avoid all that nasty business and pretend the baby came out through the belly button or something.
March 23rd, 2007 @ 3:02 pm
do they not come thru’ the beely button
March 23rd, 2007 @ 3:11 pm
belly
March 23rd, 2007 @ 3:17 pm
Shit Peader, a typo? I thought you knew something I didn’t.
March 23rd, 2007 @ 3:46 pm
With all the sadness and trauma going on in the world at the moment, it is worth reflecting on the death of a very important person, which almost went unnoticed last week.
Larry LaPrise, the man that wrote “The Hokey Kokey” died peacefully at the age of 93. The most traumatic part for his family was getting him into the coffin. They put his left leg in. And then the trouble started.
March 23rd, 2007 @ 4:12 pm
What trouble was that then?
March 23rd, 2007 @ 4:42 pm
I’ll be honest with ya twenty -not that you’d care- but I don’t usually find your posts that funny, more witty I guess!
But this one on the other hand is a real gem, the tears were rolling down my face boy. Classic
March 23rd, 2007 @ 5:12 pm
I thought that the little buggers were delivered by stork and that the gee was for putting things into.
March 23rd, 2007 @ 5:34 pm
james cameron got the idea for alien(s) after the birth of his first child. actually, considering the fucking irritating spoilt little monsters people are spewing out all over, should just have sigourney weaver with a flamethrower/assault rifle/grenade launcher combo waiting instead of a doctor. roast rib of baby. yum.
March 23rd, 2007 @ 5:45 pm
Do cannibals prefer eating babies more than eating adults.
mutton or lamb
March 23rd, 2007 @ 6:08 pm
In Irish bathrooms there are no #2s. People progress from #1s straight to #3s ‘cos “dat’s de turd ting, yeh see”
March 23rd, 2007 @ 9:47 pm
something about seeing a pair of scissors
cutting open yer wife’s twat, makes you want to go to the pub and drink alot, so does sports, thirst and avoiding said wife.
March 23rd, 2007 @ 10:23 pm
It’s the sheer volume of fluids that came out that amazed me – if I lost that much I’d have to a) faint or b) replace it immediately with beer
March 25th, 2007 @ 11:04 am
When my sister was born, my old man brought my mum to the hospital and then went to the cinema to watch ‘Kelly’s Heroes’ (the cool war movie with Donald Sutherland and Telly Savales).
Can’t imagine anyone saying ‘we’re pregnant’ back then……
Funnily enough, he wouldn’t dream of going to the cinema these days, or the pub (favoured haunts of old), because you can’t smoke there!
Twenty: are you my da?
If you are, I’ve been meaning to tell you you’re an awful bollox! (but you’re alright really as well)