“Twenty”, said Dirty Dave, “if you had to be Santa, a reindeer (any one of the magic ones) or Jesus which one would you be?”
“Dave”, I replied, “that is a very good question.”
“Really, do you think so?”
“No, you hapless cretin, it is up there with the worst of the ‘Which one of these three things would you be questions’ but nevertheless I shall do my best to answer it for you.”
“Santa. There’s the whole workshop full of presents thing which is very appealing, isn’t it? All year round you’ve got your North Pole sweatshop working overtime and, given the fact you have magic and stuff, you could employ somebody like Willie Walsh to administer, leaving you lots of time to play Pacman and the like.”
“I can sense a ‘but’ coming up here.”
“You know me too well, David, you know me too well. Having to deal with screaming kids for a month is not exactly my idea of fun. It’s a job that Gary Glitter and Derry O’Rourke would love. Little children sitting on your lap all day but like Achilles I have one weakness and that is my lap. Perhaps one day in the future ‘Twenty’s lap’ will enter the lexicon in place of ‘Achilles heel’ but child after child would leave me destroyed so that rules out Santa. Plus I hate dwarves in all their various flavours and working with elves every day would make me sick.”
“It is hard to argue with your reasoning there.”
“Now, Jesus. It’s tempting, isn’t it? Son of God = serious power. However, I do not want to be the King of Jews. They’re such an exacting bunch of people that there’d be queues of rabbis around the corner as they’d come to me and say ‘Look here, we don’t think it’s appropriate for the King of the Jews and the Son of God to get that drunk and to vomit in that holy place and to beat up that 12 year old for simply pressing the keys on his mobile phone a little bit too hard’. I don’t need that kind of guff and it would be all I could do not to turn them into frogs with the awesome powers I would have as the Son of God. The last thing the world needs are enormous bearded Jewish frogs.”
“Once again I am finding it difficult to find a flaw in your argument.”
“So, that leaves us with reindeer. Now, they would not be my favourite four legged forest dwelling animal. That honour goes to the badger but if one were to be Rudolf, for example, one could make a very good living as an Alex Ferguson impressionist. That red nose, those cloven hooves, the peculiar stench. The demand for after-dinner speaking appearances would be tremendous and you know well enough that my Scottish accent is near perfect after that time I had to infiltrate Big Country back in the late 80s. As well as that the ability to fly really does appeal to me. Can you imagine me flying through the air, big fat cheque in my inside pocket having just done a half an hour gig at the Dublin Manchester United Supporters Club Christmas party in Out on the Liffey, and spotting somebody I didn’t like below me. I could swoop down and cover them with reindeer piss and shit before zooming skywards again and laughing at them as loudly as I could? Outstanding. So that’s it. I’d be a reindeer.”
“Thank you for taking the time to answer that.”
“You’re welcome. Which one would you be?”
“Santa.”
“Why?”
“I’d sexually harrass all the little females elves. I have a thing for female elves. I’d like them to give me a good gobblin’.”
“Ron, axe please!”
will enter the lexicon
What; from behind?
You tart.
Dublin Manchester United Supporters Club Christmas party in Out on the Liffey
You do know that’s a gay bar, don’t you?
Of course you do.
:D
like Achilles I have one weakness…
*dreams of sitting on Twenty’s lap dashed*
If you were an Irish reindeer flying through the skies would you have an eastern European on your back trying to flog Santa phone cards and scratch cards and generally being rude to everyone else on the Flight.
By far the most irritating Christmas creature is the false-smiling ‘can I help you?’ shop assistant weapon who really means ‘can I help you find the exit?’
And of course when you might actually need one of these odious women, they disapparate faster than Harry Potter can say, Ron, I prefer my arse without your wand in it.
A flying reindeer….
You could pimp yourself out to the fine fellows of the ward hunt in county Meath!! Let them release the hounds and all!!
Thet would never catch you the puffy, red-faced, fat Bastards!
Maybe we could have a charity hunt with the people in the Dickhead list behind set upon by a bunch “puffy, red-faced, fat Bastards!”
And of course “bucket fanny” Miriam could easily be one of the hounds.
‘Twenty’s lap’, Jesus that conjures up even scarier images than ‘Pat’s Hat’.
I was going to say I’ve just wasted three minutes reading another shite-awful joke but the comments here have made up for everything. Ha ha -I’m still giggling.
I’d like to be Santa and pop down Britney’s flue.
Never knew you were a Badger man Twenty. Where do you stand on otters?
On their throats.
I stood on a weasel once, it was an accident but you should have heard it. Mercy! I don’t know if it survived.
Is being drunk at work sackable?
Is being drunk at work sackable?
I know Aer Lingus take a dim view of stocious pilots.
Otters are cunts
even the three toed otters ?
“Ron, axe please!”
Axe not what your publican can do for you; axe what you can do for your publican ?
Dont think Mr waits is gonna make it to number one… He is at number 11 on itunes. Am I dreaming or did someone have this exact same campaign last year?
I don’t care who is number 1 at any other time of year so I don’t see why I should give a fuck who’s number 1 at Christmas.
I am number one, all year, every year.
You on the other hand are a number two.
You see that weeping pustule?
That’s your house that is. You aspire to that. You’re saving up for it. You want to go your holidays there.
ad nauseam
Otters are sound, badgers on the other hand are flea-ridden cantenkerous bastards.
I once had a girlfriend who called her pussy ‘badger’. It bit me and wouldn’t let go for ages, so when next we danced the bus-shelter-shimmy:
I sheathed my prick with brittle sticks…
…and employed other sexy tricks,
And beat the badger with my one-eyed mole…
…and stuck my finger up her hole.
Hey everybody! Filthy rhymes competition!
Ahhh mercy. It’s hilarious that I get paid.
I once had a bird called Spears
Who squealed when I came in her ears
Her Minge was so mucky
I was called plucky
For plating her without shedding tears
“However, I do not want to be the King of Jews. They’re such an exacting bunch of people”
ANTI – SEMETIC!
heh; you’re fucked now twenty; Richard Pearl and Wolfovich will be on to Willie O’Dea about you.
an aside from last night; i got put out of ..I think it’s called the capitol bar? last night. First time in the big smoke for a while; it really is a shithole (not that donabate is a leppin’)
happy christmas; best of luck for 2008 my fellow motherfuckers
twenty – hurry up with de book…I’m nearly finished reading the complete short stories of saki and I need something more sarcastic than munro
I think it was just to hear Larry Gogan say:
“and now straight in at number one, with
KKEERRR-IIISSSS-MAS card, FFFFRrrrrooooommmm a HHHHHOOOOker in MIN-E-Sota, ittttttsssss….”
Could have been funny.
On a lighter note. Just saw a taxi Driver at the arrivals hall at the airport with a sign saying “Peter Griffin” couldnt help suspecting a stoned student Christmas Prank.
What’s the prank?
Peter Griffin is the main character in family guy..
hahahaha dozy cunts.
“and spotting somebody I didn’t like below me. I could swoop down and cover them with reindeer piss and shit before zooming skywards” Would that be someone Alex Ferguson , Twenty Major or The Reindeer did’nt like ? Tertiary fuckin schizophrenia ? ! !
Of course there is the minute chance that there was a real man called Peter Griffin, being collected at the airport today… But I am not that pessimistic…
Tally-ho!
Oh fuck , just copped the punchline now , ouch !
”Plus I hate dwarves in all their various flavours”
Maybe you’re tasting the wrong part?
Deviant!
Dermot Ahearne just said -
“I wasn’t at the tribunal today but the line of questioning was astonishing.”
Complainer on Joe Duffy the other day -
“I’m complaining that the ice rink was cold and it was slippy.”
Why are these people given air time to utter nonsense?
They should post here
Dermot should be checking planes in shannon instead of protecting his dodgy mate who lives a quite bizarre lifestyle.
end of rant; tnks for de space twenty