29 04 2009

Day two in the gym and everywhere hurts.

I touch my arm…. Ouch… My legs… ouch…

Even my shoulders and back and stomach… ouch ouch ouch.

Turns out I bruised my finger.


One Month Today

27 04 2009

One month ago today I smoked the last cigarette I had. One month today. On Saturday I started developing a cough. I thought I was getting a cold. Nope.

For the last two days I’ve been hacking up tar. No joking. Its disgusting and tastes like what you’d imagine tar being hacked up out of your lungs would taste like. That’s the best way I can put it. Still though, I’m rather proud. I’ve been a smoker for nigh on seventeen years and now I’ve made the first real stab at kicking them to the kerb so I’m happy about that despite the hacking and the choking, and to celebrate I’ve decided to go back to the gym tomorrow. I’ve made an appointment for tomorrow afternoon to talk to one of the trainers about getting a moobasectomy and a beerbellyoffame.

I’ll report back if I come out the other side. Although, when I’m beautiful I may not have to write here because real people will like me, so be nice to me now, before I have you forgotten.

Down? How About a Kick in the Nads!

27 04 2009

As if we didn’t have enough problems. Scumbags running the day to day affairs of our towns a cities, scumbags in suits taking money from our wages to keep them rich, inept and corrupt officials using Joe Public as a piggy bank, more people loosing their jobs than you can shake a stick at, people coming out of hospitals sicker than when they went in with hunger and poverty being all the rage these days.

Now to top it all off we have an impending global flu pandemic.


Like we really need another way in which the government can be useless. Mary Harney has been doing her best to dismantle the health service for the last few years, preferring to spend money on shafting BUPA so Sean Quinn (who incidentally doesn’t seem to be subject to “Risk Equalisation”) could diversify out of Anglo.

A few years back they issued us all with iodine pills in case of a nuclear attack. Remember that? Just vaporised by a lunatic Muslim? No bother! Here’s an iodine pill for you. That’ll sort you right out. Now I can see them cancelling mass or something equally vapid and useless for the sake of being seen to be doing something without actually having done anything at all to save lives that might in any way cost them any money, the bastards.

I’m actually half looking forward to seeing how much of a balls they make out of handling this, should it reach here. This country has become a parody of itself. Thick Mick just blew his first pay cheque and now he cant afford to go to the doctor. You know, it would probably be hilarious if it wasn’t so fucking infuriating.

Why Mr Quinn, I had No Idea!

26 04 2009

As seen in Superquinn this afternoon.


30 swinging meters for when your most fabulous shirts simply MUST be dried in time for the Celine Dion concert.

Next weeks special; hot meat in a bun.

Woe betide thyne Scumbags

23 04 2009

Having nothing better to do these days due to the failing economy, I visited my good old parents for a cup of tea this morning. My mother is a very unique woman. Advancing in years, yet very healthy and by looking at her you can tell she makes an effort to keep herself well.  She eats well, gets out as much as she can, doing this and that as they do and regales me with all the inside stories on whats going on around the place. My father reads the paper and grunts at me. The silver-back of the family, so to speak.

Near where they live there are flats recently vacated under the buy fancy jeeps and paint regeneration on them scheme. Since they have been vacated they have become the usual target for all the usual sorts of shite that scumbags do to amuse themselves.  Last night, they went up on fire. (The flats, not the scumbags, unfortunately). A few weeks ago they were vandalised so the local council who claim to not have the money to demolish them put big railings around them. So, the scangers across the way stole a JCB, used it to tear down the railings and burnt the JCB before coming back to light up the flats when the fire brigade didn’t show to quench the machinery. They lit up the flats so they could molest the fire crew that arrived to put them out.  As soon as the engines came around the corner stones and bottles went flying at them. When they got out of the engines they found that the water main had been deliberately tampered with so they had to sit and wait and watch the flats burn while dodging missiles to wait for a tanker full of water to arrive.

Six engines (one draughted in from Ennis) and a water tanker. A massive yoke, so it was.

It would have cost less to knock the flats than to answer that emergency call. I’m sure of it.

These were not kids. These were pricks in their twenties with nothing better to do than harass a bunch of brave and hard working fire fighters out trying to make the scumbags in question shitty little lives safer. It galls me to think that, should any of these wankers become trapped or the victim of their own misadventures, they would fully expect these same men to come to their rescue, and come they would regardless.

A better man than me once suggested a pretty sure fire way to sort out a lot of these problems, and he in now way suggested the punishment of stupidity, rather, lets take the warning labels off of everything. Let the problem sort itself out. If they are out breeding us then surely we can educate our children to realise themselves that they shouldn’t use hairdryers in the bath, or whatever.

Just a suggestion.

Chew on it for a while and let me know what you think.

Limerick is now over run by scum, and there is nothing we can do about it. For my own part, I’ve given up despairing. I’m actually intrigued at this point and I’ll tell you why. The time is fast approaching when the government are going to run out of dole money. At the very least they will have to cut it significantly. Its only a mater of time before the whole scumbag culture implodes in on itself under the weight of a billion hoop earrings and dirty Nike Air Max.

I’m popping my corn and pulling up a ringside seat for these end times, or the Rapidture, as I’m going to call it. The four piebald horsemen of the Epoxy-clips will be bombed out of their heads on resin, and wont know whats going on. Then some lad with long hair will appear asking about Mount Olive and get the head digged off him by Olive’s brother and because he looks like a Muppet. Then there shall be a great tribulation, and Declin shall have lost sight of the bag of yokes he placed under the wheely bin only the night before, and verily, Tony shall smite his brethren who spake unto the social welfare of his cohabitation in his concubine’s council house.

A fitting end to a dramatic chapter, I feel.

The Joys of Parenthood, Vol 1

19 04 2009

This used to be the subwoofer from my home cinema system.


Now its a handy storage box for megablocks and the likes.

At least its not going to waste I suppose.

End Game

14 04 2009

I remember sitting home last year watching a rugby international and trying to get The Bean interested in it. Ireland were playing Canada in Thomond Park. Keith Earls scored a fine try the first time he got his hands on the ball in his first international. Outstanding stuff. Ireland trounced them in effective, if not rather an ugly fashion. Of course, The Bean was coming up on eighteen months old. Try as I might there were mega-blocks to be chewed, walls to be crayoned and many, many things to be thrown into the toilet. There just wasn’t the time for rugby in his busy evening which came to an end shortly after with bath, a visit to the tooth brush and an attentive tucking in.

In his cosy world he has no concept of the other thing that happened that night. Later, as he slept safe and sound in his warm bed.

A man. A short chase. A gunshot. Darkness.

We all awoke to the news. We were horrified. Somewhere inside of us we probably knew that this was going to happen eventually. It was only a matter of time before someone got caught in the crossfire. As terrible as the thought may have been, we got on with our lives regardless all the same, on many levels not really giving a shit because all this was happening in another world we never ventured into. Well now this world had ventured into ours. As unwelcome as it was uninvited. Like it or not we had death and violence thrust onto our doorsteps by people who were now testing new boundaries. Like a child will see how close he can get to the fire before he is told definitively to stay away, or gets burned, Limerick’s underclass were now in new territory. Right on the hearth, waiting to see where the heat was going to come from.

I’ve said many times before that criminals, like politicians, like bankers and builders, will operate within the parameters they are allowed to by wider society. Bear this in mind as you read on.

Maybe I was being overly optimistic at the time, but it seemed like the national outrage at the time might have started ringing bells in higher up places. In places with the tools to take action and try to close these people down. But, as it turns out all we had was the same hot air from the same people meaning the same thing.


In proof of this point, yesterday I drove past the funeral of a man who was shot in the back because his brother testified against one of the people involved in Limerick’s drug wars. After Shane was murdered we were promised action. All we got was a slap in the face from the criminals to remind of our place and the fact that there will always be ways for them to get to us should we be brave enough to take a stand. Shane died in a case of mistaken identity. They thought he was one of them. Last week Roy Collins was deliberately targeted as an outsider. As an innocent man. He was deliberately killed so that you, me and all our kind will know not to get in the way of the drug dealing scumbags who have now shown in no uncertain terms that THEY run this city, and they, and only they will be the arbiters of who deserves to live and die on their streets.

We heard the usual shit from the usual people but I have no faith in them anymore. I ‘m sure they’ll do nothing just as they have done nothing to save us from economic collapse, job loses and failing health and education services. As we have been told to tighted our belts to save ourselves from bankruptcy and reposession we will be told to bolt our windows and doors to protect ourselves from the scum that they allow to run our streets.

I’ve gone beyond being angry about it, and I think that’s the wider problem. We have accepted it. This is now normal behaviour from the criminal fraternity. Innocent people who want to protect their families, neighbourhoods and business interests are now legitimate targets. The boundaries have been extended and now society’s delinquents have a new field to play in which we, the wider society, have opened up to them through collective inaction.

Shame on us all.