Monthly Archives: March 2010
Monsignor Maurice Dooley explains it all
Download mp3 Clip via Today with Pat Kenny, RTE Radio 1, March 15th 2010 – link to full show This is the kind of fucked up thinking that brought about the abuse of so many Irish children, why so many … Continue reading
Unwashed and somewhat slightly crazed
The cardinal Sean Brady story is just another depressing example of the way the church has abused its power and influence. When they’re using the same defence as the Nazis you know something is seriously wrong. Still, listening to Newstalk’s … Continue reading
Idle minds
“I wonder”, said Stinking Pete, “if doing a Japanese accent when talking to a black person is racist”. “Don’t be stupid”, replied Dirty Dave. “It can’t be racist because it’s not about black people. You can only be racist about … Continue reading
In the place that you live
I’m not the kind of person who would be on Sting’s side in anything. Even during his Simpson’s appearance I wanted the little boy who was down the well – who wasn’t down the well at all until Bart fell … Continue reading
Minister for Sumo
I don’t really have anything to say about Mary Harney. I think we’re all well aware of her inherent and consistent crapness as the health minister. I just liked the title. She’s off swanning around New Zealand at the moment, … Continue reading
D’oh, le Taxi
In terms of the way the taxi industry has been deregulated I have a great deal of sympathy for taxi drivers. I think the regulator, Kathleen Doyle, has made a complete bollocks of it. The deregulation in itself is not … Continue reading
‘Good Friday’ opening and closing
It’s fairly typical that a sporting event is the catalyst for debate about Ireland’s ridiculous licensing laws. Munster play some cunts on ‘good Friday’ and publicans are rather cheesed off that they’re going to miss out. Who can blame them? … Continue reading
Neighbourhood wit
Came in from 5-a-side last night and two local youngsters were passing by as I hobbled towards the front door, socks around my ankles, shinpads still on, carrying a football. “Were ya football trainin’, Mistah?”, said the little blond one. … Continue reading
Heavy Rain? Heavy Shite, more like
I like a good video game. Back in the day I was a Manic Miner master, a Jet Pac genius and a Sensible Soccer supremo. Nowadays my tastes are more simple. It’s mostly just football but with odd Grand Theft … Continue reading
Non bleep
Got stuck talking to Old Charlie down the end of the bar last night. I had to venture down there to get something to read. Ron has a collection of annuals and I was searching through the Roy of the … Continue reading
Got stuck talking to Old Charlie down the end of the bar last night. I had to venture down there to get something to read. Ron has a collection of annuals and I was searching through the Roy of the Rovers to find one I hadn’t read dozens of times when he started talking.
He was waiting for Paddy to come in so they could sup Guinness with a Jamey chaser and both talk at the same time. I feel bad for old people that don’t have anyone to talk at so I sat and listened to his stories about life in the tenements and what he and his pals used to do to the swans on the canal at Suir Bridge.
Eventually Paddy came in.
“Where have you been?”, asked Charlie. “You were supposed to be here ages ago”.
“I would have been only I had a little hassle doing the shopping”, he said.
“What happened?”, I asked.
“Ahh, you know yourself. A little misunderstanding is all”.
“What kind of misunderstanding?”, said Charlie.
“Well”, he said, “I was in Superquinn and going around the place quite happily with my price gun, bleeping and putting stuff in my bags. Bleeping and putting stuff in. Bleeping and putting stuff in. I was as content as a sheared sheep, the shopping was a pleasure”.
“And?”
“I went to the checkout and she said the two words you never want to hear in those circumstances”.
“Oh-oh”, I said.
“Yeah. Re. Scan”.
“Bollix”, said Charlie.
“Bollix is right”, said Paddy. “They took the gun, bleeped it, then re-scanned all the stuff in the bags”.
“Much?”
“Well, there was the odd leg of lamb that I simply forgot to bleep. And how those king prawns didn’t cross my mind I’ll never know. It’s a mystery to me why I didn’t remember the packets of batteries, the bottle of Vat 69 or the double pack of Fig Rolls and quite how I failed to recall to bleep the sausages, the brown bread and giant box of teabags will forever haunt me”.
“Yikes. So what did they do?”
“Ahh, the manager came over and we had a bit of a chat and the security man came over and then the assistant manager and we went to the office and in the end, after I’d told them I was very old and forgetful but not on purpose or anything, I paid for what I’d somehow forgotten to put through myself”.
“Sounds like an awkward situation”, I said.
“That it was”, he said, “but at my age it’s about as much excitement as I get”.