No, not a waddling beast with a Bruce Springsteen jaw but the schoolyard/playground/backstreet game. When we were kids we used to play it all the time.
All but one kid lines up on one side of the road. One kid is in the middle. All the kids charge to the other side of the road. The one kid in the middle tries to stop you getting there. Soon there are two kids in the middle, then three, then four and the game becomes increasingly violent and difficult. Crossing to the other side is a true challenge. Forget climbing K2, running a marathon or listening to David Gray for more than 3 seconds, trying to reach the far side while there are other kids determined to beat, slap, pinch, tackle and throttle you is where its at.
The problem is that nowadays kids aren’t allowed play it in school in case they get injured and then sue the school or something. I know we can go on and on about political correctness and how things were better in our day but we only go on about it because it’s the truth.
I remember one day, as kids, when I found Dirty Dave slumped unconscious on the ground with a slightly worried Stinking Pete and not bothered at all Jimmy the Bollix standing over him.
“What happened here?”, I asked.
“Oh”, said Stinking Pete, “we discovered that if you take in a big deep breath, let it out, and then we push on your chest as hard as we can you pass out”
“Cool!”
I call that time, slumpy summer. Nowadays there’d be Childline and ISPCA and all kinds of counsellors involved if you were up to that kind of thing. Kids need to be kids. When they think ‘Hey, I wonder what happens if get a whole load of kids to lie down behind a ramp I made from a plank of wood and try and jump over them on my bike’, they need to be able to do that and land on Mark McKeown’s face and leave a great big welt and knock out two of his teeth with the pedal without censure.
Otherwise we’re going to end up with a load of kids like the ones around the corner whose mother made us take our shoes off when we came into the house and wouldn’t let them play Bulldog. They’re fucking pussies now and no use to anyone.
More Bulldog. That’s what the world needs.
I loved those schoolyard games like stick-in-the-mud and bulldog. Did you ever bite really hard on your little finger nails (for about 30 seconds), then hook your fingers together and pull really hard?
No, but I just did.
Ow.
“Red Rover, Red Rover, we call Grover over”
Yes, yes, it rhymes, that’s hilarious but please pick someone else ‘cos I’m knackered.
‘Slumpy summer’. Thats good and made me laugh. I notice from your posts since you finished the book that you’ve been a bit tired (not a comment on the writing, just that the subjects were quieter than usual).
Looks like you are recovering nicely. I’m betting on a good spleen venting some day soon.
On the subject of game being banned by the Health and Safety crowd I’m fairly sure that its the insurance companies who are behind the reluctance of schools in the UK to allow kids be normal.
The insurance companies say its because society has become so litigious but I think that’s bollocks- its not beyond the wit of insurance companies to reinsure.
I’d get all parents to sign an activities and play waiver at the start of each term- kids have to be allowed to learn the hard way about knocks. Otherwise they grow up soft and shitty with a permanent little cough into a silk hanky and a pitiful look in the doctors surgey every second day and end up writing plays and dying in Dieppe.
Fuck knows no-one wants that.
I loved bulldog, although we called it “wall to wall” as there were walls either end of the schoolyard. In my (our) day, it was encouraged by teachers to play all that shit, now of course Little Timmy might break a nail or fracture a fucking eyelash…
Ha, we called it British Bulldogs for some reason. Bulldog is cooler. There was also jiggy back fighting. We played that on grass but the hardened husband played it on tarmac. That’s Bray for ya.
You have to cultivate a certain amount of pansies though, so there’s balance, and beauty and sensitivity left in the world.
A surplus of rugby boys is not auspicious.
My kids played it through the summer and son does it in sport training. Remember “the great escape”, he and his pals practised that a couple of weeks back in a two foot diameter concrete pipe, 30 yards long and 12 foot under the tarmac road with torches. ( fat boy in front too ). Creeps me out thinking about .
Shit’s still happening Twenty.
“as there were walls either end of the schoolyard”
I think in borstal it is called an exercise yard not a schoolyard.
Otherwise they grow up soft and shitty with a permanent little cough into a silk hanky and a pitiful look in the doctors surgey every second day and end up writing plays and dying in Dieppe.
Fuck knows no-one wants that.
Hahahahaha..brilliant.
In NI the grown ups played it with slihtly different rules every July on the Garvaghy Road.
Hear, hear twenty!
How the feck else are you meant to get cool-looking scars as a kid.
“Slumpy summer” Quality! Must persuade the close personal friend to try it when she gets home.
We used to play “the tripping up game” which consisted of between 3 and 10 people running around an average sized suburban garden aiming vicious kicks at the legs of their fellow competitors.
If I remember correctly there was no way to win. It just went on and on until everybody was called for dinner. Of course the bashing of heads and crashing of teeth against the garden wall was all part of the fun.
Adventure sports. Pah!
they were small walls pp, I think you imagining they were huge says more of your youthful criminality… speaking of criminality, enjoy your pints on Friday.
We used to play Bulldog and Red Rover in P.E. Manhunt was always a good one too! That one wasn’t encouraged in school so much.
And: jumping off the shed… bow-n-arrows… splits (with the carving knife)… ‘accident’ … bicycle ‘jousting’… stone fights…
Oh, I forgot… messing with wasps’ nests – it involved sticks and sprinting
i agree that kids are too wussy these days, everything scares them and the parents are over-protective. i grew up on the rough side of sao paulo in brazil but my parents let me play outside with my friends, and i appreciate it. kids have to get hurt, it’s part of being a child!!!
Queenio-I-O………
Who has the ball. Is he big or is he small…..?
etc etc
testing
We called it bullrush.
Oh, how I loved that game. I can’t remember what would happen at the end, but there was the inevitable call of ‘BUUUUULLLLLLRUUUSSHHHHHH’ and you would try and storm all those who were ‘it’ in the middle and get to the other side.
Was it the same on your guys’ side of the world?
Kids like excitement and danger (excluding being part of Gary Glitters fan club) , we used to make rope swings over dangerous drops, climb , run and fall. Nowadays I think some parents think a risk assessment should be filled in and signed off by Health and Safety.
The most dangerous pursuit we had was known as ‘gat wars’ whereby one summer hostilities erupted with the kids from Measc (a slightly rougher estate beside us in Artane).
We would post sentries who would alert with that peculiar ‘weu weu’ call when an attack was imminent.
Cue rescuing gats (catapults for those outside Dublin) from hiding places in drains and bushes and much commando action.
Sweet way to waste a summer as a nipper.
“much commando action.”
I would think even in summertime no pants in Dublin would be very dangerous.
SG reminds me… being aged eight, bored and not asleep at 1am you’d open your window and fire a succession of marbles high into the night sky with the catapult. Oh what a racket they’d make, pelting down on the slate roofs…
Man, shows what a nerd I am. Our game was one person standing at one kerb and everyone else at the other. The person would ask a question about a show and to answer everyone had to run up and run back and then shout the answer. It was called TV Programmes, and the challenge for us sedentary little fuckers with our inhalers and such was the running bit. And jiggy back fighting? We played wheelbarrow!
We used to make peg guns out of the the edges of wodden bread trays,elastic bands and clothes pegs..it brought an actual danger element to Cowboys and Indians or War..
It was called TV Programmes,
heh
CRAAAAAAAACKEEEEEEERJAAAAAAAAAAACK
I think Tom Dunne is reading this. They are talking about the same thing.
testicity
Snowballs with stones in them. Huzzah.
test-osterone
Oh, we used to play TV programmes too. And kick the can. And relievio.
Tom Dunne – Get orf my laaaaaaand.
“Snowballs with stones in them. Huzzah.”
I got creased one time by a rock with a few mm’s of snow coating it. Had a lump the size of an egg on my forehead.
I remember 2 of us doing that chest squeeze deep breath thing at little break when I was in about 5th class in primary school. 2 of us took our deep breathes, exhaled and extended our arms so 2 other blokes could squuez our chests and let us down gently. Just as they were about to let us down the teacher wlaked on so the slippery cunts dropped us like hot potatoes. I was unconscious on the deck but my other mate wasn’t so lucky. He got dropped onto the corner of one of those poxy little tables. Ened up in Blanch hospital for the night.
Good times though.
Right, am I back? But now I’m out of time for commenting.
We called it British Bulldogs, I don’t know why. And we played jiggy back fights – but on the grass, the hardened husband was from Bray, and they played on tarmac.
Tom Dunne – Get orf my laaaaaaand.
ah,Farmer Palmer,and indeed the rest of Viz..
Does anyone remember a comic called Oink?
It was like Viz but without the bad language..
What would have been the point of it then?
Jiggy back fights ? Sounds a bit dubious to me Jo!
The best thing about Tome Dunne is that he has (at least temporarily) rid the airwaves of those twin oxygen thieves, Orla Barry and Brenda Power…
Well,i suppose it was for younger kids than Viz was.but the actual humour was quite cutting edge at the time.I read it for about 2 years..
Oink sounds a bit like Krazy, a johnny-come-lately comic that appeared as I was finally getting over my extended Beano phase.
There was a lad called Pongo Snodgrass who had a big long pointy nose with a drip always hanging off the end of it. Bit of a copy of Plug from the Bash Street Kids, now that I think about it.
I love Tom Dunne, the cheery little hobbit that he is.
I like Tom Dunne too but I turned on yesterday and thought ‘Do you get your hair cut in a salon or a barber?’ was a bit insipid for the first day.
Not as bad as Claire Byrne trying to flirt with him during the breakfast show though. Claire, if you’re reading this (and I know you are), leave it for the Christmas party.
Yep, british bulldogs, which eventually evolved into killer bulldogs. The difference here was that you had to pin someone’s two sholders to the ground before they were deemed to have been caught.
Many a crap v-neck school jumper was stretched to shit before everyone realised that it is virtually impossible to grab school shirts (hence the introduction of killer bulldogs).
Other legendary games of yore include curbs (kerbs?!) and the king of estate games, squares. There was always some wanker who claimed to have the rules of squares at home, and the game could only ever be played with a plastic football that had developed a wobble from all the games of kerbs that were played with it.
Squares was awesome, you just had to come from an estate that had the dodgy corrugated concrete roads divided in rectangles by tar lines (which you used to tear up in the summer when it was hot – remember hot summers?)
This nostalgia has made me sad, so I will revert to type and simply finish by saying you are all cunts. But in a nice way, mostly.
Is it raining in Dublin at the moment?
Tom Dunne is due to go head to head with Ray Darcy when he moves to Newstalk. Big bit about in last Sunday’s Culture.
Speaking of which, the movie reviewer’s name ‘Cosmo Landseman’, that’s a bit of a fucking cool name, n’est pas? Shame his reviews aren’t worth a shit, though they are well written.
Has he left ToadyFM then? Or has he been ‘lent’ by Denis O’Brien FM1 to Denis O’Brien FM2?
SG: yeah probably,i think it was about around 1984/85 if i remember..i hadnt even heard of viz at that stage.
Yeah, he’s left Today FM.
Cosmo Landesman mostly hates all films. I can dig that.
Maybe cos most of them are turgid formulaic shite?
I’ll miss his music prog, it was one of the few things worth listening to on the station which has no edge whatsoever. It’s an advertiser/sponsor’s paradise.
Dineens programme is excellent and on at a time that means he is not under pressure for ratings from sponsors..so can play music that is not dictated by the record labels..(Ray Fuckface Foley)
Best Radio show was John Kelly’s Night Train on RTE1 in the evenings but the powers that be gated it.
Tom Dunne is Jackie Stewart’s son.
Cosmo Landseman gave Hellboy II five stars. He writes well, but five stars should really mean five stars and not ‘please turn to page 14 for interview with whatshisname Del Toro….’
Tom Doorley should stop writing restaurant reviews too. As soon as a reviewer gets too big they can’t really give an honest opinion. They should anonymise the practice somehow.
Wait, wait I think I just invented the internet.
Bashins! Another classic! Then tunnel bashins and penalty bashins. Twists on a classic.
If I remember rightly, ‘British’ Bulldog involved the guy in the middle calling one person to cross the divide. If that person made it, the rest could charge. Normal Bulldog’s Charge just involved everyone charging at the same time and was something akin to a riot in Soweto.
‘Chuck the Bottle was a fun one during lunchtime at school. It involved screwing the top of a small Fanta bottle really tight and fecking it at the nearest lad. He either caught it or got clobbered by it. I remember someone flinging it at a kid with a broken leg once. He had his crutches on at the time and it was like watching someone trying to catch a bullet with tweezers. The headmaster walked in just as the bottle slammed into the kid’s chest.
Are kid’s in Dublin still allowed to light unsupervised bonfires at Halloween?
Loved the Mystery Train, though apparently John Kelly is an absolute cunt to work for. Sometimes you could detect that in his treatment of whoever was producing / on the desk.
Further game of yore: combo. Headers and volleys with forfeits, usualy blasting the ball at some guy leaning against the wall.
Ah, yes, Mystery Train. That’s what I meant.
So is Bulldog a cousin of Red Rover? I broke my wrist playing RR once and got the game banned for the rest of ‘em!! Har de har.
A few of my school chums went through a public bulemic phase… lunchtime would see a whole load of girls with puke in their laps. They did the passing out thing too.
One kid was towed away by ambulance with liver failure but did she learn? Did she fuck.
Jumping off garage roofs. I think it was called ‘fucking stupid’.
I’m a bit pissed off no-one ever told me about the catapult and marbles and slate roofs. Now I feel like I’ve had a deprived childhood.
I could have lay in bed all night keeping the entire neighbourhood awake trembling with rage.
Bollocks anyway. Anyone know where a well preserved man in his early forties can buy a catapult and a 9 kilo bag of marbles?
Are kid’s in Dublin still allowed to light unsupervised bonfires at Halloween?
Depends on the neighbourhood.
And I remember forefits for heads and volleys. I can also remember belting the ball so hard and some bloke it smashed his head off the wall and he went off crying. I felt a bit bad.
As soon as a reviewer gets too big they can’t really give an honest opinion. They should anonymise the practice somehow.
I heard recently of one restaurant reviewer being treated to a slap up, no expense spared meal in the restaurant he was reviewing. Him and about 5 mates. There was also a connection between the publication and the chef so there was no chance of it being reviewed properly.
We used to have a game called ‘the hunt’. It involved the random naming of some unfortunate who was then chased down and battered by the rest of the school. Now that was a game!
‘TV Programmes’ sounds like a a shit game. If you’re standing on either side of a road just get a football and have a game of kerbs instead.
Catapults
No idea about marbles though. Toy shops, I suppose. There was one out by Stillorgan bowling alley that used to sell all kinds of cool steelies and gullies.
Just remembered a few other games:
Slaps
Mercy
Knuckles
All involved use of the hands and a lot of pain.
One kid was towed away by ambulance with liver failure but did she learn? Did she fuck.
haha. Is her liver still failing?
You don’t buy a gat, you make it…
Wire clothes hanger. Clip off the curly, twisty bit.
Bend the rest of it into a gat shape. Wrap loads of electrical tape to lock the handle into shape.
Small turn of the upper pointy bits to make a loop for elastics. Good pliers work required.
String thick elastics together (x 2).
Get and old belt. Cut off a small section that has 2 holes near the edges. Run the elastics through.
Sorted.
Slaps was a great game. There was a nameless one at school where a little kid was pressed against a wall with a desk until he pissed himself. That replaced “roasting” – holding a first year against a radiator until he cried.
Knuckles, with the ruler, right?
Ah, ‘steelies’ and ‘gullies’, I don’t think they sell them in that shop anymore. Ordinary marbles can be got most places. Try Smyths for a big net bag of them.
SG, did you ever try making a double launcher with a forked stick and a pair of swimming goggles? Fun times.
well Steelies were ballbarings so where ever you can get them from,mechanics suppliers..or aldi maybe?
Har- ta for the advice and link. I’ve just nicked £6.19 from de mudder’s purse and I’ll have the Black Shadow from e-bay when she’s out later.
In the meantime, thanks SG for the construction tips. That’ll do me until the post brings the Black Shadow.
Do you reckon the makers of the Black Shadow know what their product will be used for? Its perfectly named. One last problem- when I’m lying in bed, still in my well-preserved early forties and Batman jammies and stoned senseless will I remember to open the window?
I’ve been a keen interweb user for many a year and can now say hand on heart that it does give good advice.
Tunnel “Bashins” or “heads and vollies” was the best. When the loser had to crawl through the tunnel i.e everyone lined up who was playing with their legs open in a row and get lumps knocked out of them on their journey.
“Knuckles, with the ruler, right?”
Deck of cards for us.
Ruler was used to give a ‘rasher’. The very tip of the ruler was whipped across an arse cheek.
Hugely painful.
Funny, though.
Especially when there was always one cunt with a metal edged ruler.
Those triangular toblerone shaped rulers were lethal weapons too
I have a metal edged Velos 145 ruler on my desk at work for keeping order among the minions and ruffians.
It has Imperial measurements on it and no metric measurements. It says ‘Made in England’ on it and its travelled with me during my career.
No one touches the Velos. Touching it without my being present is a sackable offense. I heard a rumour its called the CuntAdjuster.
I’ll not gainsay that description.
I used to like making tiny arrows with the flugelbinder from the end of my shoelace with a pin passed through it and the lacy part flared out to make a nice “flight”. This was blown through an empty bic biro to great effect and could easily pierce a school uniform from yards away.
He shoots, he’s sore.
flugelbinder – so that’s what it’s called.
i am in your debt, sir.
Ooh, you hoaxster…
“Flugelbinder”, however you choose to spell it, is NOT the correct name for a shoelace tip (which is actually called an aglet).
This fictitious addition to the English language seems to have originated in the 1988 movie “Cocktail”, during a discussion about the ordinary objects that can turn their inventors into millionaires.
Jesus- I missed out on loads. First the midnight catapult and now the flugelbinder arrow.
I’m having words with the parents. And then, the shoe-cupboard.
Ian’s Shoelace Site – Bringing you the fun, fashion & science of shoelaces…
hahaha
http://www.fieggen.com/shoelace/faq.htm
Knuckles: a little like slaps but you were fist to fist.One person “serves” bytrying to rap the other persons knuckle, You won serve if someone tried to knuckle you but missed. Also, if you flinched you had to take a freebie knuckle
Rulers and arse cheeks and torturing small boys is it? Ahh, yes. It explains a lot.
Is Tom Dunne doing his music show on Newstalk? More info please! Has he started? God, I’m out of the loop.
He’s doing his talk show on Newsmusic
He took a parachute, and jumped. Listened a bit earlier, needs a good team to liven it up.
cant find tom dunne on any station??
thanks guys I now have that bitch Joan burton speaking from somewhere within my PC to some newstalker, and I cant turn it off…
Bring back the old games I say. I dunno when I last had a game of dares/spin the bottle.
Where’s Monkey Nuts? I’m gettin’ bored. And I’ve found those old underpants he wanted.
Batty ‘I’m Inbred and Dim’ O’Sullivan asked; Where’s Monkey Nuts?
I think you’ll find most supermarkets and grocers will be getting them in soon. Halloween is just ’round the corner.
Maggot, the ‘roasting’ game made me laugh out loud, wish I’d known about it back in the day.
And all this talk of ‘black shadows’ on e-bay?? No mate, it was black WIDOWS. The major knackers had diablos and then the cream of the crop weapon was the pro-diablo (It had targeters). Thank God for army bargains is all I can say, where else could a young fella buy a balaclava?
Now, if anyone feels like marvelling at just how frivolous and shit one human being presenter can be, Sean Moncrieff will be on Newstalk shortly. And while we’re taking shots at Newstalk presenters, god bless Orla Barry but she’s one rough looking munter.
You live around the corner from Halloween? Where’s that? Just up the road from Christmas?
For giggles, though this likely to test Twenty’s limits…
http://www.fettemama.org/wp-content/uploads/2008/09/76096pikasshl9.jpg
http://img153.imageshack.us/img153/5986/palinqueenue8.jpg
That’s a bloody sophisticated game for children.
Round here we played one called “lets beat the shit outta each other”
I’m off now to join up with about 200 beautiful women of all different nationalities, as we partake in that most underestimated daily ritual, the ‘Collecting of the kids from school.’
There’s some fine looking ones this year! Well gamey too, if you ask me.
But I would say that.
Anyone except Monkey Nuts found an old knacker’s Mister Whippy next to a toilet bowl recently?
Its not an insult, MN, and there’s no need to be ashamed of living on a halting site. Not these days.
MMN – Sick but hilarious..
Monkey Balls: I’m off now to join up with about 200 beautiful women of all different nationalities, as we partake in that most underestimated daily ritual, the ‘Collecting of the kids from school.’
Unless you are actually a parent of one of those kids I’d leave it, MN.
MN: There’s some fine looking ones this year! Well gamey too, if you ask me. But I would say that.
Mothers or children?
Bless MB and his beer goggles and hormones.
Only he could see a gang of jaded oul’ fatties in tracksuits picking up kids from a school in Tallaght as being an experience akin to “200 beautiful women of all different nationalities”
MMN- that was a provoking post. Assuming it hasn’t been photoshopped (prbly not wise to assume anything)why do people in America bring guns to the swiiming pool? Do they have outdoors swimming pools in Alaska? What is a god-fearing mother-of-five (or 4 depending on what you read) doing in underwear in mixed fabrics within a cubit of a man who doesn’t look like the big beardy guy who is her husband (see Leviticus).
SG, I used to live in Tallaght and tracksuits are out, cheap satin pyjamas are in.
Jo – The Tom Dunne Show (Weekdays 9-12, Newstalk 106) has a few musical interludes. I like Dunne too, not sure this is his format, but as I said, I am grateful to not have to listen to the mental vaccuums that used to inhabit that timeslot
The school collection point is a well established fashionistas sub-culture.
To the untrained eye this is simply some well groomed 20 and 30 somethings collecting their darlings but it is a vicious competetive environment awash with Ugg boots, SUVs, DKNY sweats and even tiny dogs.
It is Irelands desperate housewives stomping ground and all the little Oisins and Evas are unwitting accessories.
Pat, there’s not many SUVs etc in Tallaght collecting kids, the dealers all drive them.
“SG, I used to live in Tallaght and tracksuits are out, cheap satin pyjamas are in.”
Welll, I’m a northsider where we cherish traditional values.
Grover, I heard that the pyjama wearing inner city folk don’t actually sleep in them. They are purely fashion items. Is this true?
What am I? Fucking Columbo? Just laugh at it you fucking spa.
I wouldn’t know, Mr. Leeroy. I am not from the inner city nor do I associate with such folk.
“Spa” hahaha
Nearly as good as SpaHole
I shall grab my bowler hat, umbrella, silk bath robe and ask one them in my finest faux-foxrock accent. We shall soon find out.
Its not fashion,its just pure lazyness although some would like to dress it up as a fashion trend because there were pics published of Britnee going to the shops in her PJ’s,she was on crystal meth at the time though..
“I shall grab my bowler hat, umbrella, silk bath robe and ask one them in my finest faux-foxrock accent. We shall soon find out.”
Probably best to start with “You there.”
Is it not a daytime uniform for hookers?
“Probably best to start with “You there.”
perfect Grover, ……..”you there, yes you with the scowl on your face. Are you poor? excellent, now answer me this”?
It’s the sketch that The Fast Show somehow missed. Excellent
……..”you there, yes you with the scowl on your face. Are you poor? excellent, now answer me this”?
“Pennys you say? How ghastly!”
Starring Simon Day as Red Leeroy…
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=M0efne1xf0o
and introducing Jo as Pyjama Skanger # 1
The Twenty Major theatrical society, Meeting every Monday night in Noctor’s on Sheriff St.
I flipped through the comments and noticed nobody brought up dodgeball. That was a recess staple when I was growing up and now it’s not allowed in (American) schools. The rubber ball hitting you could cause bruises and God knows we can’t have that. It’s a pity, I say!
DodgeBullet seems to be more popular now in scholls and colleges in the states.
Scholls??? wtf? schools..
Bulldog, jeeez i actually forgot about that game – amazing.Piggy back fights,tag team wrestling, kerbies and water fights, oh the memories. Kids these days are complete and utter pussies.Don’t suppose water fights would be as popular these days though in fairness.
We did the knock your-self out slightly differently. You squatted down with your head between your knees and took 30 deep breaths. Then you stood up and pinching your nose shut exhaled as hard as you could. Knocked you out like a baseball bat to the back of head. I introduced it to Torontonians back in the sixties but they’d only play it indoors with lots of cushions on the floor. Bloody girls.
True, kids these days are pussies – pussies with lawyers. They have really shit names though, my ma heard this one day:
(Scrubber mother to four-year-old who is pissing off his toddler sibling in the buggie)
“Leave im alo-wen will ya?”
“Ah for fuck sa-”
“ORLANDO! I told ye to LEAVE him!!”
MMN- The missus’ mother overheard a traveller mother calling her wayward spawn in Dunnes one day
The two were dressed in denim jackets,jeans(studded) and cowboy boots.
“RANDY!!!,LYLE!!!”
They were about 3 or 4 yrs old.
MMN, had a similar experience while working a summer job in Crazy Prices, Finglas, many moons ago;
“For fuck sake Sebastian….”
Randy Lyle. Poor bloke has never been the same since he won the Masters.
The McGowans an infamous family from an estate in Scotland, known for it’s 24hr heroin shopping, called their daughter Pocahontas after the release of the film. My mother who worked in the maternity wing must have told the whole world before the kid was released into the wild.
heh…
I heard a fucking classic the other day, but I can’t remember it, some fucking eejit named their baby after something they liked – it wasn’t even a name, Ford GT, or something, strawberry milkshakes or something. And while this brings me two for two for dodgy ‘ethnically critical’ posts for the day, I’m fairly sure the mother was Nigerian.
Arrgh, can’t remember it, racking my brains!!
News just in:
“Our research revealed that banter, which included references to one’s community background, was a potentially very useful communication practice in many organisations, in facilitating and easing relationships.”
Hmm.
http://newsvote.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/uk_news/northern_ireland/7595839.stm
A friend’s friends were registering their baby. At the office, there was a little matriarchal family in front of them: a 15 year old mother, a 30 year old granny and a 45 year old great granny.
Registrar: what’s the baby’s name
young mother: Pocahontas Murphy
Registrar: what, splutter splutter, you can’t call the baby that!
Great Granny: Ah, ya know, you hafta move with de times!
I think banter’s good. Look at Eoin O Neill and whatsisname with the deadpan jokes…. ehhhh the other northern comedian, hysterical about owls… they’ve been doing it for years.
Bitching is different though, presumably.
There are some fine examples of good-natured ribbing on the threads of Wolfe Tones videos on Youtube.
http://www.youtube.com/comment_servlet?all_comments&v=5AXJjY4BTLI&fromurl=/watch%3Fv%3D5AXJjY4BTLI
I thnk none of you r nice.
Pocohontas O’Sullivan age 11 n’bit.
I broke my arm playing Bulldog when I was wee. They were holding me up and shouting “British Bulldog 1 2 … Oh” when John Norman dropped my head end. I fell awkwardly, snapped my arm and lay there for a bit going pale and also saying Oh.
We used to put on our roller skates (clunky, cheap metal jobs that strapped over your trainers), and hold on to the back of the lemonade lorry going down our street til it got to the bend. Then it would go one way, we’d let go and go clattering the other way onto the grass to fall over. Great times.
An unusual name and private schooling gives one character.
Pocohontas- brilliant! Wish I’d had the nerve to call daughter no. 3 that it would stop her being so mouthy now. Beats Britney & Whitney in matching buggies (& mammies in trcksuits, funnily enough) at seen & heard at Ballymoney railway station
Knackeress: Ahh jaysus micko u don do antin nice far me anymowore so ya dont!
Knacker: Fuck off owadat u, don’t i ride ya an buy ya burgurs…….
Knackeress: Yea spose ya do
Fuckin classic.
Bulldog what a classic, it’s up there with the crush, one lad wedged between a gate and a wall, everyone else piling in on top of him, it was an advanced version of a pile on, which was a variation of rolling down a hill, all required strange body movements and surreal views of the world.
There is a child in the American South, probably of school age now, called Chlamydia because her momma thought that sounded purdy.
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There is a child in the American South, probably of school age now, called Chlamydia because her momma thought that sounded purdy.
heh, like if Irish films or TV had an influence on South American baby names.
Christy Lopez.
Imelda Gonzalez
Flurry Garcia
>Of course the bashing of heads and crashing of >teeth against the garden wall was all part of >the fun.
Isn’t that what pebble dash was invented for?
>CRAAAAAAAACKEEEEEEERJAAAAAAAAAAACK
It’s Friday! It’ Five O Clock! It’s
FUCKOFFDOWNTHEPUBTIME!!
Sorry, Obviously I am joining this converation a little late.
Speaking of dangerous play, I got into a bike race with a friend on the way home from school one day. He had a twenty-one speed racer, and mine had only three on the back, so I didn’t stand a chance. After he surged ahead, I stood up in the saddle and leaned forward, putting all my weight on the pedals.
The next time I look up, the bastard had stopped and was looking back to gloat at me.
Only problem was that this happened when I was about three meters behind him so I ploughed into him at full speed, flipped over and landed on the kerb. All our friends thought this was hilarious, but I only remember thinking, as I regained conciousness, that I had barely missed landing in a massive dog turd on the pavement.
We now return you to our regular programming.
Chlamydia-Ann, Chlamydia-Bette, Chlamydia-Mae…
>Other legendary games of yore include curbs
>(kerbs?!) and the king of estate games, >squares.
Ohhh how many times my brother made me play that!
Getting humungously nostalgic now.
>I flipped through the comments and noticed >nobody brought up dodgeball. That was a recess >staple when I was growing up and now it’s not >allowed in (American) schools. The rubber ball >hitting you could cause bruises and God knows >we can’t have that. It’s a pity, I say!
I know a guy who broke a finger playing dodgeball
Chlamydia-Bob.
“Night John-boy, night Elizabeth, night VD…”
Argh, brings back memories.
Another game at primary school involved two sides trying to capture each others “gold” which consisted of busted marble headstones from the old graveyard. Of course, unbusted headstones soon got busted to fill the coffers and the game got banned.
So it was back to british bulldog, branding, knuckles etc,and tickling girls until they pissed their pants.
And you try and tell that to the yoof of today….
Heck yes!! Bulldog was a GREAT GAME!!!
I remember Oink. I’m sure I still have the issue one flexidisk somewhere..
“Poo Poo Tinkle Tinkle Parp Parp Oink Tiddly Widdly Widdly Widdly Plop”
Cant remember what was on the B-side though..
We called it british bulldogs too – I thought that was just because we went to a proddy school…
We did metal work and wood work in first year in our school. Rashers were common place as was arse stabbing with a sharpened 2H. As there was always very hot implements around and people were on edge, the best joke was ramming a cold piece of metal into someone’s arm and going “hissssss”. The shock would make them think it was red hot.
Bulldog was great. Kerbs was good to.
hehe. this is so ironic. just explains it all.
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