Monthly Archives: April 2007
Vote for us
“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 … Continue reading
So the election has been called…
…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
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 … Continue reading
Judges are such twats
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 … Continue reading
Overheard in Ron’s
“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 … Continue reading
The final solution
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 … Continue reading
Odd phone calls
*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
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 … Continue reading
Texts I never send
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
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 … Continue reading
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.