Friends parents. A funny bunch of people when you think back on it now. How odd they seem. Mickey Nakijuma’s dad was a fucking huge man. It was the source of much slagging when we were growing up.
“Hands up whose Dad is not a fat cunt!” we’d say, all putting our hands up while Mickey stood looking at the ground.
“Hands up whose Dad isn’t a sumo wrestler!” we’d guffaw, as Mickey could only sigh, wishing there was an All-Ireland sumo championship in which his father could gloriously triumph instead of working shifts in Semperit’s.
“Hands up whose Dad isn’t going to drop dead of a heart attack because he’s a big, fat bastard who drinks too much rice beer and eats more noodles than a small army!”, we’d mock as we raised our hands to the air. The irony of Scabby Liam’s brother coming around about five minutes later to tell him their skin and bone father had dropped dead of a massive cornary was not lost on us, but unconcerning all the same. Scabby Liam’s wailing was a distraction only as long as we could hear it.
Funnily enough we never slagged Mickey off for being a slanty-eyed yellow bastard but I suppose kids only see what they want to see.
That’s racist, I’m shocked ….
The day we first saw what a Neanderthal looked like was a cruel one for Ultan Mooney.
Kids are cruel little shites.
Conor O’Neill, he had a beard in 6th class.
Justin V********’s mom used to sunbathe* completely in the nip. And smoke long cigarettes. And clunky glasses, ice-filled, dark alcohol. A summer day with a boner in my whites whilst** gripping the tennis racquet.
* that word/spelling doesn’t look right
** Is it whilst or while? Not that it matters; I think she knew we watching. yep, kidz ain’t racist; it runs on from their parents, mostly their father though I have noticed lots of racist mothers now too.
Pictures please – Justin’s mum, not you and your matchstick.
Well, itchy, I think it’s “A summer(‘s) day with your tennis racket whilst gripping your boner” but then I wasn’t there.
John Le Carré is making everything end with an e today too. My brain is tired. All this Willie O’Dea thing has got me an excitable eejit and I’m worn out.
Thanks for the grammar Crank and maggot…what’s the latest gossip on Iris? I heard a sunday paper printed another story but I don’t know which or about what. Any idea?
Poor Iris – I heard she’s picking plaster off the walls in the chuckle factory, under lock and key.
That’s a handy defence.
Is that the only story you’re hearing or are you being coy again maggot? You seem to go a little into your box when Iris and her shenanigans are mentioned.
She was mentioned in Private Eye as been fond of booting around London in her red MG with a passenger. But they didn’t mention the name of passenger.
So, was there any other story besides the “She’s gone mad”. I wonder if she can get a dildo on prescription
I heard Iris and Brian Kennedy were totally doing it
And Elton John. And Boy George. And Sporty Spice.
And maggot. She rims him.
Is that the only story you’re hearing
We intellectuals have more important things about which to worry mo chara.
You seem to go a little into your box when Iris and her shenanigans are mentioned.
You must have missed my speculation about bumface then.
And maggot. She rims him.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5a7E6yyUNVo
Bit rich coming from the man who admitted to playing with (Freddy) Mercury on Twitter!
And then there was Sharon Donnelly. She had a full on mustache at the age of 13.
Who’s bumface maggot? I’ll ignore the intellectual nonsense; everybody is nosy. Did you read the headlines yesterday a.m. or do you just keep your eyeline at the magazine rack?
Bumface – Wayne Rooney – Viz special. He has form in the granny department.
Like the one on the girl in Intermission HM. Yummy ronnie.
That’s her Itchy.
We also had a bloke in a wheelchair which had mag wheels.
Wonder if Iris rode teen boy on the sabbath?
Maggot, you have good taste in women.
Kathryn Bigelow and Helen Mirren, Older woomen with style!
Has anyone seen this? Shades of Malcom McArthur. Fucking hell.
http://www.irishtimes.com/newspaper/frontpage/2010/0223/1224265037686.html
i think iris takes it up the bogside
We had a wee lad across the road who we could make poo himself by repeating “(name)’s going to flopsies” in that sing song kiddy way, much like the way I used to goad my dog to chase his tail.
Kids… hah.
This is from a really old post, back in 2004.
Then there was Carl. We all used to play up this side road near our houses. Quite often we’d be playing football and there’d be a call of nature meaning you had to go back home to use the toilet (this is when sitting on the toilet was required, the woods beside the football pitch were perfect for taking a whizz), but Carl never wanted to stop playing. So when he badly needed to go for a poo he’d get down on one knee, almost like the way you’d kneel for royalty, and he was convinced this would push the poo back up and let him play on for longer. This worked even when he had a turtle’s tail. One day he did it too often and went home complaining of stomach cramps. We didn’t see him for a few days after that and it turns out he had some kind of poisoned bowel.
haha
True as anything too. We used to just ask him why he didn’t just go in for a poo, his house was about 30 yards from where we played heads and volleys, but he’d do the kneeling thing instead.
Kids were much more varied in personality than adults are. Is it just that we learn to bend to the societal norm?
There were all sorts of mad kids whehn I was growing up. Probably all settled down and normal now, mostly.
Anyone from Artane / Coolock area would know Laurence.
The poor lad wasn’t right in the head and used to pretend to drive a car when running along… gear changes and everything with the left hand. You’d see him at the lights at the village, revving up for the green beside bemused motorists.
His sister was touched too and rumour had it she’d do the biz for a box of matches.
heh, a box of matches.
There was a lad up the road who apparently was diagnosed, officially like, as ‘hyperactive’!
He nearly killed himself burning down a field, the mentalist. He also got a load of bangers one hallowe’en and sellotaped to them to a little kid, like a banger bomb belt. He made the kid go around with him under the threat of lighting the fuses. It might actually have been his little brother now that I think about it. He was crying a lot.
“and he was convinced this would push the poo back up and let him play on for longer. This worked even when he had a turtle’s tail.”
Viz calls this effect “Turtle Recall”.
Passports for sale raises it’s head again Toronto. Another wonderful chapter in Irish history where Fianna Fail treated the state like a fucking mafiosa fiefdom.
And while I’m at it Ryan Turbridy led out with Bowie again at 9 a.m. this a.m.. Turbridy and Bowie; enough to send a me straight across the room to BBC Radio 4 quicker than you can say “MGHHHHHHHAWWWWWWWWWWW”
*I thought I was giving up tetchiness for lent; fuck it.
That Dublin address used with the fake passport is very very suspect. Typically Ireland and Israel do not get on at all. There’s been plenty of bitching between them in the past.
But we have a very cosy relationship with the US and I wouldn’t be surprised if certain individuals here were pressured into helping Israel with this operation. Our passports are always in demand and because our state is run by a small mafia style group of people, it is very easy to obtain false documents and get high level co-operation.
Isn’t that address not just around the corner from the Israeli embassy and owned by a certain Mr. Reynolds, son of another certain Mr. Reynolds?
Not suggesting anything.
I could be wrong.
There was a guy in our school called Hulk, we’d piss him off, he’d go behind a tree rip off his shirt, ala Mr. Ferrigno, and chase us, only to get the shit beaten out of him. He’d also swallow ink cartridges, and eat dandelions.
He had a small bike that he used to paint a different colour every few months and then tell us he got a new bike.
Dems were de days.
There was a lad at our school who wasn’t the full shilling.
Had more ticks than a multiple choice paper.
He always carried a brown leather briefcase.
We had a perpetual feud with another local school and heard on the grape vine that they were coming round in numbers the following day.
On hearing this yer man says he’ll be ready for them with his chain.
Chain? says we, yes chain says he.
During the ensuing riot with the police in attendance the highlight turned out to be watching this lad trying to retrieve almost 30 foot of chain from his briefcase.
heh, a nice manageable length
Walter, it’s owned by Alberts brother, father of John (POD guy) No. 6 Eglin Road has been vacant for 10 years.
During the passport for sales controversy Albert Reynolds said there was no correlation between his pet-food company receiving a 1 million punt loan from a saudi called Masri and Masri receiving an Irish passport.
No wonder they made a dogs dinner of that one then.
I’ll get my coat.
SG, there was a ‘Laurence’ in my primary school. Mad eejit. He did that driving thing too, including reversing around a corner driving test style and over-taking in the corridors. He even broke down once.
I saw him a few years ago with his wife and kids. Must have normalled up. Or is very wealthy.
Normalled up, ha. There’s a tv programme in that. “When spas go normal”
Nah Peadar….When Spas go normal but then relapse
It all began when Jim pretended to reverse out of a meeting one day.
Heh.
ha ha. He might have got away with the reversing, it was the handbrake turn that frightened everyone
Normalled up, eh? good for him. Our laurence had no hope. None. Bless.
I like mad people though. We need them.
Nobody dared to do stuff like this to my face. My parents have taught me from early age how to defend myself verbally. That made me hate my parents at the time, but hey, you can’t have everything.
Still, I’m sure the kids were really cruel to me behind my back.