Dirty Dave is in a coma.
Time: Saturday night
Location: Ron’s bar
Dave was there along with Pete, Splodge, the two old lads who sit at the far end of the bar, Jimmy, Ron’s cousin Handsmasher (so named because he smashes people’s hands up with a lump hammer), and Lucky Luciano whose wife was out of town so he was avoiding a trip to the cinema. Conversation was flowing.
“And then they reckon they sedated her and cut her up into little bits”, said Splodge.
“Wow”, said Jimmy, “I had been wondering what happened to Samantha Mumba”.
“What about those McCanns though?”, said Pete.
“I have a pain in my gee with the McCanns”, said Jimmy. “We could do with another natural disaster to give them something new to talk about on the news.”
“Kate McCann?”, said Dave. “I would.”
“Oh for fuck’s sake.”
“I would though. She’s lost a bit of weight recently too. Looks like a supermodel, what?”
“Dave, you really are a big stupid cunt.”
“What’s stupid? I’m not stupid. Here, do you think if you swallowed a load of tampons with their plastic covering on them you could shit them out intact?”
“I have no idea”, said Pete.
“Dave”, I said, “I’m pretty sure you could do that and for each one you shit out intact I will give you €50.”
“You’re on.”
“I’m not sure that’s such a great idea”, said Handsmasher. “What if the acids in his stomach ate away at the plastic bit and then the tampons absorbed all the acids in his stomach? Then he’d have to shit out enormous wads of acid tampon fabric. It could burn his arse away entirely.”
“I don’t think you should be so negative, Handsmasher”, I said. “I’m sure it’ll fine and I personally am quite interested in the outcome of this experiment. Pete, blem on down to Londis there and buy some tampons. We’ll give it a lash. You still on, Dave?”
“I am. €50 per successful tamplop?”
“Absolutely.”
So, Pete went down to the Londis and bought a pack of Lilets Super Plus Mega Godzilla Extra. There were fourteen in the packet. They were taken out and lined up on the bar. I bought Dave a fresh pint and he chugged them back down. All fourteen. A couple of them nearly choked him early on but they all went down easily enough.
“Right then. It’s going to be a while before I need to poo. What say we meet back here tomorrow lunchtime and I will hold off on having my first movement of the day then.”
“That sounds fair enough”, said Ron. “What about that cheating wee cunt then?”
“He’s a lucky I’m a used to proper crooked politician like a we have in Italy. This is a small a fry.”
And on it went.
Time: Sunday lunchtime
Location: Ron’s bar’s toilets
“How’s it going in there, Dave?”
“Grand. Just reading the sports section of the Sunday Times. Got the Indo here for the wiping. Haha.”
“Haha”, we all laughed.
This was broken by a groaning from the cubicle, a sort of slithering noise and then something dropping into the water.
“Well?”
“Mostly log, let me have a dig around. Oh! Oh! There’s one, fully intact”, he said before lobbing a plastic and poo covered Lilet over the stall door and onto the floor.
That meant I owed him €50 and this was not the result I had been hoping for. Soon number one was followed by number two (yes, number two) and within 15 minutes I was down €400 as the filthy bastard shot forth a total of eight Lilets still in their plastic wrapping.
“Haha, Twenty”, he called out, “I might buy meself a Playstation3 or 40,000 cola bottles with all that lovely money you’re going to give me.”
“Yes, well if I was you I’d be more worried about the six tampons still floating around in there.”
So he tried some more and he clenched and heaved and forced and clenched some more but nothing more came out. It was because it had been so noisy as he willed his bowels to move that we noticed the silence. That and the smashing sound which we later discovered to be his head on the door.
Time: Sunday afternoon
Location: St James’s hospital
We were in a waiting room which had those old school chairs but only in that really weird off green colour that you find in hospital waiting rooms. The doctor, looking quite worried, came over.
“I’m afraid your friend is in a very serious condition. We’re doing some tests.”
“You should probably be aware that he ate fourteen tampons last night.”
“Pardon me?”
“You see, he was wondering if you could shit them out with their covers still on. I told him I’d pay him €50 per tampon he shat out with plastic on it.”
“You did what?”
“Eight of them he got out completely perfect. We just gave them a wash and donated them to the poor.”
“What about the other six?”
“No idea. Still in there, I assume.”
He scurried off looking more worried and more than a touch confused. He came back later and told us that four of the six in his stomach had split and had caused toxic shock syndrome.
So that’s why Dave’s in a coma.
Yup, periods are a fucking bitch.
Now he knows.
Guys are so cool.
Twenty I have nothing but admiration for you, I will endeavour to by two copies of your book when it finally hits our shelves just for that post, for you are the maddest bastard ever to grace these here web pages.
Why do women get periods?
‘Cos they deserve them !
I’m not bitter about my divorce, honestly.
“TAMPLOP”
I just slapped my forehead and groaned at that. One word but the visual was all wrapped up in that one word. Disgusting. Eloquently disgusting.
if dave had a trunk, would be no contest… cue old joke:
what do elephants use as condoms?
sheep
why do elephants have trunks?
cos sheep don’t have strings
must drink less…
If Dave dies will you donate his winnings to the same charity as the tampons ??
If he pulls through..his capacity for smuggling cocaine has been proven..he will get loads of job offers from shady hispanics. Dave the “Mule”. Actually when he shat them out would they be Mule Logs? Very Festive!!!
Twenty I think there is some spam thing lurking around your interweb
Jesus wept.
Yea, LittleSapling. What a waste of a UCD degree in English.
UCD. Pfffff.
No 73, I was highly entertained by this post…I feel dirty now..
Hey Twenty, on an unrelated subject, are you going to make personal appearences to publicise the book?…or will you do what you did at the blog awards and send along your younger brother nineteen to do the necessary?.
The exact same thing happened my uncle.
No idea what’s going to happen yet, Sapling. And I turned up to the last blog awards myself.
“She’s lost a bit of weight recently too.”
Every cloud…
Is UCD one of those newfangled medical conditions: Useless Cunt Disorder?
Exceptional post twenty. I think we all know a Dirty Dave who willingly sacrifices their personal health for short term profit.
this is the kind of post that will have me buying the book in bulk as presents.
He pushed back the boundaries of science as well GG.
Your ‘uncle’ J5? Ah yes, your ‘uncle’.
Dave is a fool but i admire him for his greed. When/if he recovers id like him to work for my market research company and test drive some of tescos products, id like him to drink two bottles of drain and pipe cleaner! One from tescos own brand one for domestos to see which one really does clean the pipes the best and is thus best value for money. He wont get paid for the job but he can keep the empty bottles.
Dirty Dave is like a suicidal version of that MTV show..can’t think of the name…you know the one where they hit each other in the head with breeze blocks..Have RTE finished commissioning this years telly yet?
Has everyone got an uncle except me! I havent an aunty either but i’d like one. one of those who bath you and to save getting thier clothes wet lep in with you too. Is there an aunty out there not over 40 yers of age and under 20 stone to take on this lost horny little divil? Can we start a dating agency on here just for me.
Shut your minge, FMC.
Why? It needs a good airing after the weekend.
We had the Kate McCann debate last week in the pub. John & I would but Dicky would not as he only likes fat birds. Pub regulars were suggesting that we were bad people for even considering the matter. You never know, it might take her mind off things…
Twenty – is there any chance I could get these? Eileen Dunne keeps stealing mine from the RTE ladies toilets.
Eilleen Dunne is a known Peadophile so God knows what she’s using them for the menopausal auld bint.
Spot on J5. See you up in Barry’s hotel tonight?
Bring Lube.
My juices are still flowing – just ask Pat Kenny, John Giles or any of the male kitchen staff.
If I get close enough in proximity to Pat Kenny the last thing I’ll be doing will be asking him questions about the dampness of your briefs.
I’ll be far too busy beating him around the face with his own severed limbs.
Forget about the lube – get me a bumper pack of AA batteries, six smirnoff ice and forty benson.
Benson? You filthy mare, I had you down as Marlboro Red type gal.
Ho hum, what’s all this? I wonder if this is really my esteemed colleague Anne The Man or some henious impostor.
Bring it on Johnny 5, I will suck your intestines outta yer arse
Dobbo, ye cunt, keep your fat head out of this.
Mr Kenny, you’re going to struggle to suck juice from a capri sun never mind my intestines from my arse after you’ve removed a wheel brace from your jaw, you vacuous cunt.
ZIP up your mickey.
Who got stuck cleaning the floor after the great emptying out?
I hate to be the bearer of bad news but if your friend gets MRSA on top of the TSS, I fear Shit Creek is looming on the horizon.
In fairness Scawgeen, I’d have thought MRSA would be the least of Dirty Dave problems.
I stopped reading after Kate McCann’s name was mentioned.
:poundit:
Annie will you be my aunty?