Monthly Archives: January 2011

Fucks sake

Ivor Callely gets €17,000 And there’s the thing, until you change a system that enables corruption there will always be corruption. And now Cowen has announced he’s not contesting the election. He and his mates fucked it all up, claimed … Continue reading

Posted in Blog | 72 Comments

Things I care about in the next election

1 – That Fianna Fail get a kicking 2 – That The Greens get a kicking 3 – There is no 3 I really don’t give a fucking fuck beyond that. I fail to see how I’m supposed to enthused … Continue reading

Posted in Blog | 62 Comments

Spammy

Sorry about the lack of posting today. People to shank, places to rob, you know yourself. Got this in email though: Dear Twenty Major?, We are contacting you because we had a look at your personal blog and thought you … Continue reading

Posted in Blog | 36 Comments

Who hates Bertie most?

Me. Nobody hates him more than me. You do? You think so? Prove it. Truly he is history’s greatest monster.

Posted in Blog | 56 Comments

Fianna Fail’s shiny new Mickey

So Mickey Martin gets the job and he is Top of the Cunts *cue Yellow Pearl* I have to admit I care as much about this as I do his sister Linda’s many Eurovision attempts. With any luck the people … Continue reading

Posted in Blog | 46 Comments

Back to the grind

In these trying times it’s good to know that the real Ireland hasn’t fallen into a black hole of despair. Things continue apace. Like the Garda who was callously mown down yesterday by a joyrider. Sorry. I mean a cow. … Continue reading

Posted in Blog | 54 Comments

Top of the Cunts

So FF are looking for a new leader. Time for a run down on the candidates, who will be Top of the Cunts? Brian “Hairy Cornflake” Lenihan Pros – Comes from a long political dynasty, is experienced, full name is … Continue reading

Posted in Blog | 73 Comments

No no no

What to write about today? The governmental, political shambles, perhaps? The Greens have finally had enough. Imagine it’s taken this long. The press conference yesterday, unbelievable. Gormley, the most insipid politician I have ever seen, trying to  make out they’ve … Continue reading

Posted in Blog | 81 Comments

Dear Brian Cowen

You were a cunt in the first place, a cunt while it was all going on, and you go out a cunt. If this means Fianna Fail don’t do as badly as they should in the election you’re an even … Continue reading

Posted in Blog | 114 Comments

An escape from the world clique

It’s amazing the things you can find out on Wikipedia. The other week I was looking up Siouxsie Sioux and discovered this about her life. Her mother was a bilingual secretary, her father was an alcoholic laboratory technician who milked … Continue reading

Posted in de-punz | 82 Comments

It’s amazing the things you can find out on Wikipedia. The other week I was looking up Siouxsie Sioux and discovered this about her life.

Her mother was a bilingual secretary, her father was an alcoholic laboratory technician who milked serum from venomous snakes in the Belgian Congo.

It remains one of the best sentences I’ve ever read in my life. I cannot attest to it’s veracity in any way but either way it’s just a fantastic thing to read. Can’t you just imagine young Siouxsie at home?

“When is Daddy coming home?”

“When he’s milked off another half dozen cobras and finished that bottle of knock-off Gordon’s”.

So many pop stars have had tough lives growing up though. Maybe that’s what gives them the drive and the ambition to succeed. I read recently about Lady Miss Kier from Deee-Lite. She grew up with a domineering father and mother who hardly looked up or down at her during her entire childhood.

She recounts how they barely fed her and when they did it was little more than slop. One morning, a starving, seven year old Lady Miss Kier came downstairs looking for some breakfast?

“Breakfast? BREAKFAST?!”, shrieked her mother. “I’ll give you breakfast!”, which was just what the kid wanted and it left her somewhat confused.

She stormed off to the kitchen and came back a few minutes later with a bowl of watery oatmeal. As the hungry child held out her hands for it her mother flung it as hard as she could into the fireplace.

“There you go”, she said, “gruel is in the hearth”.