“Twenty”, said Dirty Dave, “if your name wasn’t Twenty and you had to choose from ‘Arthurbumfaceshitpants’, ‘Stretchedanusmanwithweepingsoresonhisanus’, or ‘Colin’, which name would you choose?”
“Good question, Dave. And one I’d have to give some serious consideration to. You have to factor in when this name change would be made. I mean, if it were now it would be merely awkward to go to the bank and say ‘Excuse me, but I have to change the name on my account to Arthurbumfaceshitpants Major. Yes, I said Arthurbumfaceshitpants. What is your problem?’. I think I’m at an age where I would be able to cope with the obvious embarrasment. Sticks and stones and all that.”
“I see.”
“Of course that wouldn’t make it easy-peasy or terribly comfortable all the time though. Imagine if you went to visit a friend in hospital after he had been raped by a moose with a terrible infection on his moose cock which transmitted itself to the rectal passage of said friend and then when you got to the hospital and you said ‘Hello, I’m here to visit my friend. The moose guy. Yeah. My name? It’s Stretchedanusmanwithweepingsoresonhisanus Major. No, I’m not taking the piss, I swear’. See, that could be a bit awkward, couldn’t it? But I suppose as an adult you’d have to just get over it and get on with things.”
“That you would.”
“The real difficulty would be if you were transported back in time and you were in school again. You know how mean kids can be. Every perceived weakness is relentlessly slagged. Like ‘Haha, your Dad’s head’ or ‘Haha, you have a patch on your eye’ or ‘Haha, you have cerebral palsy’. Kids say the cruellest things. It’s natural, of course, it’s all part of growing up, but going back in time and being called ‘Colin’ would be a bit too tough. If ever there was a cunt’s name it was Colin. I’ve never met a Colin who wasn’t a complete and utter cunt. Colin Major. Jesus Christ. I’d probably just fuck off to Bridgend and kill myself if that was my choice. In fact I’d rather be called Damienrice Major than Colin.”
“Fucking hell!”
“Anyway, in conclusion it’d be Stretchedanusmanwithweepingsoresonhisanus Major for me, as the chances of either you or Pete being raped by a STD ridden moose are quite high indeed. What about you then? Which of those three names would you choose?”
“My middle is Mary, Twenty. I’ve had enough grief my whole life.”
Ah, the high road. Carry on.
I’m suing you, you bastard.
Even Colin Bateman has changed his name to plain old ‘Bateman’ now … Any Colins in particular you object to?
There might be one or two, yeah…
One of the worst Ads ever – for sausages – even worse than the George Best Ad for “Cookstown, the Best Family Sausages” – “You’ll Call again for Colin Glen”
out here in the far east …you register your name to the taxi company …
Ive used Mr bigcock for a while ..when i step into a called cab ..taxi driver always confirms my name and the name for the whole journey is on the meter ..tee hee
also the female attendant that I call says my name.
No taxi driver has never asked a question about it.
ive also used Mr Bond ..every fucking driver talked about james bond, and Mr RichGold ..there so fucking superstitious out here that I have never failed to get a taxi with that name
Maggot – What the hell are “Family Sausages?” Sausages made from ground up leftover bits of family?
I have some family members I’d like to turn into sausage. Where can I send them?
Annie – traumatic to remember the ad, but George was at a table munching a banger with his pretend family. Awful. It was the sausages that did his liver in.
Remember his disallowed goal against Cyclops Banks ? Cunting referee!
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2D8IW_3_6D8
astounding choices, but somehow they all make sense..insightful story, sugar…thank you! ;-)
People on American blogs etc don’t talk to me because they think I’m Mexican or something……….true story…..I had an email once asking me where abouts in Mexico I was from……idiots……I’m from Barcelona….sorry I meant Belfast
http://burnthatbook.wordpress.com/2008/03/23/colin-coyle-is-my-hero/
hehe check out this cunt.
quick Twenty, now you’re even losing the bloggers support!
But only cos you said bad things about damien rice…
Actually I’ve just seen the rest of that blog and it is a work of comedy genius..
In order to cancel out the heinousness of a Colin you need a truly powerful surname. Something like Firth. In order to cancel out the anusness of a Stretchedanusmanwithweepingsoresonhisanus you need a truly powerful antibiotic.
But be fair to the sores. If I was a sore and it was my destiny to infect an anus, instead of say, Alan Rickman’s upper lip, I would weep too.
http://burnthatbook.wordpress.com is/has to be the work of Twenty? If so, the most amusing thing you have done! in an Escheresque recursive kind of way.. if not, blog awards 2009?
I wonder has Damien Rice ever heard of you Twenty?
Heard of him? You know the song ‘Blowers Daughter’? Twenty is the blower in question. He because he blows things. Cocks, mostly.
Yours, mostly.
quick Twenty, now you’re even losing the bloggers support!
But only cos you said bad things about damien rice…
haha, I’m running scared now.
Yours, mostly.
I dont have a cock.
Then that’s one hell of a clitoris…
I am asexual.
I’m having a fag.
Looks like London Tim was right. Bunch of latent homosexuals.
(Not that there’s anything wrong with that. Any one fancy meeting up later for a drinkipoo?)
You mean cock-tails…
Actually I meant rimming, or at least a quick rummage in your underpants.
Plus Colin reminds me too much of ‘colon.’ An anus has more character than that tangle of ropes in your gut.
22.219.167.128 Do you think he just made those numbers up? Looks suspiciously like an IP Address to me.
We know he made up the bit about the “adoring fans”
Colin Girth, yeah he’s a big cock
What are you on about, MB?
Sunday Times. Colin Coyle. I’m actually on-topic for a change.
Ahh…
PS
I won’t embarass you by explaining the numbers.
I’m not embarrassed.
And you’re quite right too.
When they knock it down to 99c I’m going to get another one.
heh
Fuck it, for a book that has had absolutely no PR aside from the blog and one thing in the Business Post (which the PR company didn’t even arrange, I used my own contracts) it’s not bad.
Alright chimp nuts, calm it down.
absolutely no PR aside from the blog
What about me?
Why, how many copies have sold?
I haven’t got around to buying it yet but I’m definitely going to.
I find the stories on the blog very funny so I’m sure I’m going to enjoy the book
In the shops 560 or something. That doesn’t take into account web sales…
Since March 1st or so…
Peadar, read the numbers. Add them up. There’s your answer.
No PR? Does me standing in Easons with a copy of the book in my hand screaming “BUY THE CUNT OF THIS BOOK YOU CUNTS OR I’LL THE CUNT THE CUNT OF ALLL Y’ALL CUNTS” not count then?
You asshole.
Those of you who haven’t bought the book yet, get up off your arses and buy it now.
How the fuck am I ever going to get a book deal if Twenty’s is a flop?
I believe that’s called Verbal Abuse, J5.
I’d call it scare tactics. Either way, you owe me
Colin Burncock. Damian Soredick. Good last names for sexuals otherwises and assorted claptraps.
twenty ; it’s odd…the Colins that i do know are cunts
On de book front…i confess; I haven’t bought it, yet. I did drop into Easons this evening and had a quick look for it (it wasn’t at the front with the bestsellers) but I had 4 bills, ESB, Gas, Phone, Mobile burning me..did the maths tonight and I can afford to buy it this week.
Read this article; that guy Caprani; read his books; get a system like he has so you can afford to write the ones with the cunts in it like the order.
You’ve the skill, gl.
http://www.tribune.ie/article.tvt?_scope=TribuneFTF&id=112673&SUBCAT=&SUBCATNAME=&DT=02/03/2008%2000:00:00&keywords=caprani&FC=
it wasn’t at the front with the bestsellers
- I bet that came as a bit of a shock!
did the maths tonight and I can afford to buy it this week
- Addition, it’s so fuckin’ tricky, isn’t it? Me, I usually get a 7yr. old to do it for me.
You’ve the skill
- Stop it now. You’re killing me!
Feel the wrath of my bombast – M.E.S.
There are two things in the world that taste like fish. One of them is fish – MB
Monkey
Look into Mr. Caprani; maybe you could learn something.
Never..No, no, no….Always, tell your wife…No, that’s not it….Wait a minute…Never tell your wife that you’ve bee….No, that’s not it either
Aw fuck!
Itchy,
I am a teacher, not a learner.
Thank you for your misguided suggestion.
Arrogant, grey-haired, cheeky, pedantic, too fuckin’ clever, nocturnal, perverted, stubborn, annoying, old, stoned and drunk.
That’s me. – A teacher.
Monkey, I thought you were going to bed..
I tried to clear that up earlier, but for some strange reason, my comment disappeared. (I’m used to it now – It happens a lot.)
Truth is, I’m already in bed. Most of my comments are posted from my bed. I really only get up to let my bitches in with the beer and ciggies.