Vote for us

by Twenty Major on April 30th, 2007

“Vote for us. Sure aren’t we great already and change is always messy and horrible and sometimes sticky and nobody wants that. Yes, we’ve made mistakes but who better to make amends for the mistakes than us? We know how we’ve fucked up so we know best how to fix it. Forget crime, poison water, dodgy payments, rising inflation, €5 pints, drive by shootings and all the rest. Just forget it. Go on. There you go. There’s that smile! Ahhhh…” - Fianna Fail

“Vote for us. We’ll abolish stamp duty and reform the shoddy healthcare system. You all know the current lot are a bunch of shysters and while we might be like swapping €1 for another €1, our coin will be shiny and new. This country needs a change and we might just be the best of a bad lot. And Bertie is a cunt. Oh, no he isn’t. We didn’t say that. ” - Fine Gael

“Vote for us. We’ll help our mate Enda to become Taoiseach and we’ll bring back the halcyon days of the party when we had the most amusingly named leader of any others. From this day forth Pat Rabbite will be known as Sandy Crack or Roger Miflaps in honour of Dick Spring” - Labour

“Vote for us. There’s really no good reason why you should but we like to put across an image of intellectual superiority and you can be intellectually superior if you mark our card - we even have the celebrity candidate of the election. Yes, that’s right. That bloke who played piano on the Late, Late toy show. Whatever his name is” - PDs

“Vote for us. We’ll get tax rebates for people who recycle more and get more bus lanes and invent non-polluting fuels and fill the canal with spring water and introduce more bicycles and lower our carbon emmisions and all sorts of cool stuff like that. Think of your children and your children’s children and their children’s children. If we don’t do something they’ll all be mutants. And not good mutants will cool powers. Just fucking deformed like Gerry Ryan” - The Green Party

“Vote for me/us. As an independent candidate I am not beholden to any grand party design. I’m my own man/woman and I will listen to you and campaign tirelessly on your behalf. I hold no truck with any of the rest of those sly fuckers…unless of course I’m needed to make up some kind of coalition. Then I will only do what’s right for my constituents and I would be able to do more as part of the government.” - Johnny/Jenny Independent

“Vote for us. Somehow we’ve managed to make you all forget we’re the political wing of a terrorist organisation that is responsible for hundreds of deaths and murders, that has brought pain and misery to thousands and thousands of people and is now a racketeering gang that would make Al Capone proud” - Sinn Fein.

So the election has been called…

by Twenty Major on April 29th, 2007

…and not one of the candidates has promised to rid the country of Barry Egan or TV3. There’s a real fucking niche there for anyone who wants it.

Buried alive

by Twenty Major on April 27th, 2007

See that fucker who had a heart attack on Easter Sunday and was pronounced dead only for a nurse to spot the fact he was still breathing as they brought him to the morgue? That is one lucky bastard.

Leaving aside the whole ‘Why can’t you tell a dead person from an alive person you hospital types’ can you imagine if he’d been buried alive or cremated alive or, if he’d been a Jehova’s Witness, consumed by his entire family in an underwater feeding frenzy?

Being buried alive must be the worst thing ever. It’d be like that moment of terror you have when you think your head is stuck between some railings only a million times worse. Imagine lying there in a coffin knowing you’re 6 feet under, no matter how much you scream nobody will hear you, no matter how strong you are you’ll never get out. Minging.

Would you starve to death or die from dehydration or would it be lack of oxygen? I’m quite sure at least one of you out there knows the answer. Perhaps from a scientific point of view or from the ‘Yes, I’ve buried somebody alive and watched them on a camera top find out what they died of’ point of view.

Here’s one for you though. If you could bury alive the person in the world you most hated and could watch and listen to them as they came to terms with their situation would you be softened by their weeping, their childlike keening, so much so that you let them go, or would you watch right to the end?

You’d need to have no conscience at all for it not to live with you for the rest of your days, haunting your days and your nights, knowing they would have lived if you had given the nod.

On the other hand, fuck ‘em.

Judges are such twats

by Twenty Major on April 26th, 2007

A Garda sergeant caught a publican selling after hours. The publican called the Garda sergeant a ‘bollix’. Judge Mary Collins called the remark ‘reprehensible’.

Is it any wonder that this country is in the state it’s in if a judge considers that remark reprehensible?

If the publican had said “You’re a dog rapist who likes to rape dogs then stick his dog poo covered cock up small boys arses before shooting his man paste on a blind nun’s face” then I’d agree with the judge 100%.

As it is she just looks like a bollix.

Overheard in Ron’s

by Twenty Major on April 26th, 2007

“Did you see they found a planet in some solar system which is the ‘twin’ of Earth”, said Stinking Pete.

“Like identical twin?”, asked Dirty Dave.

“I don’t know. It could be that other kind of twin.”

“Siamese?”

“No, you spa. Non-indentical. If it was siamese we’d be stuck to the other planet and it wouldn’t have taken them so long to find it.”

“That’s mad, so it is. So if it’s a non-indentical twin it means it’s the opposite of earth. Where we have oceans it has land, where we have mountains it has valleys, where we have volcanos it has …erm… reverse volcanos that erupt molten ice into the earth’s core.”

“Isn’t molten ice just water?”

“Well, it’d be ice to begin with but as it got closer to the core it would become molten because of the heat of the core?”

“But if this planet was the opposite of earth the core would be made of ice so the ice would become double-ice.”

“Yeah, well…it’s entirely possible. As a great man once said once you rule out the impossible the most logical next thing is the impossibility you’ve been ruling out once there are no more probables.”

“Who said that?”

“Arnold Palmer, I think.”

“Right. So do you think somewhere on this planet is a bar like Ron’s where the barman is a complete bastard like Ron?”

“Aye, that makes sense except he wouldn’t be a bastard. It’d be a nice bar too. With nice food and trendy lights and music, possibly provided by a disc jockey. And there’d be a guy called Clean Dave!”

“And a fella called Fragrant Pete who everyone would love and think is cool and who gets to do it every weekend with models and stuff.”

“Model airplanes? Like Airfix?”

“No, you clown. Models. Like Helena Christensen or Kate Moss or Bibi Baskin.”

“Ahh, that makes more sense all right. Imagine a bit of the Airfix broke off and went down your Jap’s eye.”

“Doesn’t bear thinking about. Do you think there’d be a guy called…erm…what’s the opposite of Twenty?”

“Sixteen?”

“No you idiot. That’s half. Well, maybe there’d be Twenty Minor with a black beard and who didn’t smoke in bars.”

“Hahaha. Yeah. He’d still be a cunt though.”

“Oh aye, no question about that.”

The final solution

by Twenty Major on April 25th, 2007

I’m torn between writing about the news that examinations commission is concerned about the poor grammar, punctuation and syntax of Junior Cert students and those people down in Wexford who killed themselves then killed their children.

2 b hnst its a fckn shck situatn dat pll say cud hav bn fxd if da pigs or hse had gon 2 da house. Den u hav 2 kwstn da parents. Wot knd of cnt kills 2 kids?

And is it any wonder at all that standards of English are so low? Do kids these days even read books? Strikes me they do all their reading online and instead of reading newspapers or decently written articles they’re all reading each others Bebo and MySpace profiles which, if you’ve ever had the misfortune to do likewise, would make you think you’re dealing with complete simpletons. It’s then no surprise that if the only stuff they read is shite like that and text messages from their mates that it’s reflected in how they write.

Lots of ppl wil luk 2 point fingrs of blame at any1 dey can fnd for dis ting in wxfrd but no 1 expcts any 1 to kill dere own kids. U jst hav to accpt dat sum ppl are fkn mad and get on wiv life.

So, what’s the solution. How do we increase the standards of English and literacy amongst a group of people whose attention span is lower than your average Taoiseach’s morals? How can you reach out to young women who think that Paris Hilton isn’t a complete and utter geebag? How can you convince young lads who want to go out and drink beer and cider in fields that they should read a book some time instead of playing xBox or frapping off to porn on the internet?

“No, honestly. You’ll enjoy your free time much better if you put down that joypad and read this. I swear to God ‘Of Mice and Men’ is much more fun than Gears of War XII”.

It’s a non-winner.

Dora da fckn explrer. Fckn heartbreakn.

Odd phone calls

by Twenty Major on April 24th, 2007

*bring bring*

“Hello?”

“Ahh, hello Twenty, Stinking Pete here.”

“What’s up, Pete.”

“Twenty, sometimes I wish I was a praying mantis.”

“Er…what?”

*click*

Fucking weirdo.

Alas poor Boris

by Twenty Major on April 24th, 2007

Ahhh poor old Boris Yeltsin, they don’t make them like that anymore. He was a free spirit, a radical beat poet for the 90s, a man who brushed his teeth with vodka and bicarbonate of soda. He will be sorely missed.

My favourite story about Boris was when he went to the USA to meet with Bill Clinton and after a White House dinner security staff found him locked in a cupboard frantically fingering Hilary. Legendary.

Of course, we have our own drunken politicians here. Sinn Fein’s Martin Ferris drank two pints and a glass of red wine when he was caught by Gardai. He was driving home from his local pub and apparently he only had to go a third of a mile. What a lazy fucking cunt. If he can’t even walk home from the pub after drinking too much for the breathalyzer then is he going to go the extra mile for his constituents?

I used to know a guy who taught English in a foreign country and before every class he’d down a couple of whiskeys because he couldn’t stand children. He hated them. Really hated them. I’m not sure why he needed the Dutch courage though. He was 6′7 and as black as the ace of spades. Most of the kids were terrified of his mere presence. He could have had them in the palm of his hand with a look from his ever reddening eyes.

He got fired when he threw the ‘duster’, or whatever you call the cleaner for the white board, at one particular kid and hit him right in the eye which popped right out of its socket and hung there on a stalk.

Little cunt deserved it though.

Texts I never send

by Twenty Major on April 23rd, 2007

Dear Texts I never send,

have you considered the idea of actually sending some of these texts? You never know your luck, you might get some and thus not spend all day writing fucking text messages to yourself.

cheers,

Twenty

Chandler and Marlowe

by Twenty Major on April 23rd, 2007

Have just finished reading a collection of the Philip Marlowe books. I’d read them years ago but I think I was too young to appreciate them properly.

Marlowe was a cool bastard, even though he smoked a pipe from time to time. The first cool thing about him was the fact that his first name didn’t have two Ls in it. There’s never any need for somebody to be called ‘Phillip’ or ‘Matthew’ or ‘Allan’ - why waste letters like that? You don’t hear of people called ‘Gorddon’ or ‘Derrek’, do you?

Another cool thing about him was the fact that he never chose the easy way to do anything. When inevtiably questioned by the cops over his involvement in some case he never just said “Well, what happened was X, Y and Z” at which point the fuzz would just say “Oh right, that all makes sense. See you later.”

No, Marlowe would remain aloof, rude and would tell them nothing but let them know he knew everything. He also drinks bourbon for breakfast, kisses other people’s wives while they’re looking and has no problem drinking gin based cocktails.

Of course the coolest thing about Marlowe were his ’sayings’. It was he who perfected the style of the hard-boiled PI (post Sam Spade) which has been so pastiched by film and TV, notably Frank Drebben in Police Squad (“It’s true what they say. Cops and women don’t mix. It’s like eating a spoonful of Drano: Sure, it’ll clean you out, but it’ll leave you hollow inside.”)

My most favourite line of all is the one where he’s talking about a beautiful blonde client and he says something along the lines of “She was a blonde. The kind of blonde that would make a bishop kick a hole in a stained glass window.”

Awesome. I don’t really know what exactly it means but it just sounds brilliant, doesn’t it?

Can you imagine if we’d had an Irish Marlowe?

“She had a face like a freshly dug Kerr’s pink. Filthy, red like a baboon’s arse and lumpy as hell.”

In honour of Marlowe I’m going to drink a pint of bourbon for my breakfast.