Monthly Archives: June 2009
Strolling
I walked into town today in the sunshine. Really rather nice. It puts you in a positive place. I walked down the canal from Harolds Cross as far as Leeson Street bridge. “Ahh, what a gorgeous day to be an … Continue reading
Cheap and nasty
“I have an arse like a baboon”, complained Stinking Pete in Ron’s over the weekend. “Why’s that?” “Well, I’ve got a massive dose of the scuts. I knew I shouldn’t have eaten those prawns”. “Which prawns?” “The ones that went … Continue reading
Sennheisers RIP
Oh Sennheisers, you always got tangled around the leg of my chair, made me want to kill you. Even though you were headphones. Wanted to be Geppetto to your Pinocchio so I could give you life then throttle it out … Continue reading
May the forks be with you
Dirty Dave and Stinking Pete once went to a Star Wars themed restaurant. The waiter, dressed as Boba Fett, came over to take their order. “What can I get you Jedis for your starter?”, he said. “I’ll have the Princess … Continue reading
An atypical post
There are moments in your life that you remember with absolute clarity. Many people still remember where they were or what they were doing when JFK was shot. We can all recall 9-11 and the TV footage, how we found … Continue reading
Strum, pits
So does anyone else regularly have that dream where you’re onstage in a band but you have no clue how to play any of the songs? Last night I was a member of Wang Chung, front and centre, with an … Continue reading
Wishing people dead
Is it really wrong to wish someone dead? I just watched a video on YouTube of Fox News presenter Bill O’Reilly. As I watched it I realised that I would actually be happy if he died. Honestly. And the more … Continue reading
Fuck James Joyce and fuck Bloomsday …
… this is the only Ulysses worth talking about. Stick that up your barnacle, Nora.
Tomorrow…
… just for kicks, I’m going to spend the day talking like David Sylvian sang ‘Visions of China‘.
No, Pants
A conversation I had this weekend. “Please?” “No”. “Please?” “No”. “Please?” “NO”. “Please?” “NO, NO, NO”. “Please?” “FUCK OFF AWAY FROM ME”. “Please?” “Go away”. “Ple-” “GO AWAY” She went away. Those gypsy girls are persistent little cunts, let me … Continue reading
A conversation I had this weekend.
“Please?”
“No”.
“Please?”
“No”.
“Please?”
“NO”.
“Please?”
“NO, NO, NO”.
“Please?”
“FUCK OFF AWAY FROM ME”.
“Please?”
“Go away”.
“Ple-”
“GO AWAY”
She went away. Those gypsy girls are persistent little cunts, let me tell you.
As well as that it appears that Dublin city centre is now the worst place in the world to buy pants. I tried to buy a pair on Friday afternoon, my old pants are slightly threadbare at the seat, and I trawled through many shops and found none to my taste.
I remember in the old days you could barely find a bad pair of pants in Dublin, now it’s bad pant central. What has happened? Why do pant designers think that people’s legs are the same size as a famine victims? How are you supposed to get your foot through the bottom?
In the end I was forced to buy a length of velvet and bring them to Johnny Tailorman on the Sundrive Road. He’ll fashion a pair of britches for me that will make me the envy of all the dandies, you just wait and see.