May 26th
Devastated to read that poor old Bono (he's a bit of a singer, with an Irish 'band') after years of trying to talk out of his arse - and on more than one occasion, trying to disappear up it - has caused his own considerable damage. Mind you there is a sense of justice, given that he has been giving some of us a pain in the arse for years... he knows, what it feels like, at last.
It has really screwed up several important schedules, i.e. A tour of North America, Glastonbury, his bank managers pension and a whole series of 'Telly Bloopers'.
Word is that Ronan Keating's (Louis Walsh told him that he was a singer - proving two things; (1) Louis is the biggest liar and/or most tone deaf music impresario in the universe and (2) You could probably sell Ronan a Jack Russell and convince him that it was a Shetland Pony) marriage is going through a rocky patch; couldn't have anything to do with the fact that Ronan was allegedly boning a dancer on the side! Sources advise me that his next stop is, a trip to Tiger Woods' mansion, where he allegedly, Tiger is going to give him some tips (on golf, I presume) and Ronan is going to trade for tips on how to drive away from your Missus, without getting a 9 iron in the forehead.
Niamh Kavanagh, can be seen in the 'Irish Mirror', up in the Arctic Circle, getting ready for Eurovision. I thoroughly agree that she and all the other Eurovision hopefuls are in exactly the right place (and should be left there - that's Ronan's next stop, after Tiger). Just in case ordinary people who really like music, didn't think that she was daft enough for entering the contest, Niamh dressed in traditional attire for the visit, which is her way of saying, 'Please look at me, I am a right tool!' ...shouldn't she have a bell around her neck?
Wednesday, May 26, 2010
Monday, May 24, 2010
Little Jackie
24th May 2010
Little Jackie, the Jack Russell, joined our family from the local dogs' home.
He had been found tied to a lamppost, shivering and shaking on a winter's morning; left by some heartless - but wise - owner.
We brought him home and petted him and it hurt us! It hurt us because Jackie tried to fucking eat us. He showed no bias though, because he also ate the chairs, table, doors and fire brush. Jackie wasn't all daft though, he drew the line at poisons or even broken glass, regardless how cunningly disguised in a sausage or piece of bread. His lightning reactions saved him, many the kiss of leather.
The little darling also attacked the mother-in-law; one of the few - if not only - positives that I can remember as, owner and 'protector'. The mother-in-law asked my son to throw stones at him; I am still awaiting the bill from the glaziers.
I would let Jackie out every morning for his run, unfortunately, he invariably came back. He did look cute though, as he ran in to the living room and without so much as a perfunctory sniff, shit copiously on the Persian rug. The rug - a generous wedding gift - now resides in the shed. Thankfully the flies, having grown attached to it, voted to follow. Jackie recovered from the loss quickly enough and found the mother-in-laws' chair a satisfying substitute.
Jackie met his Waterloo one summer's morn, when he leaped a wall while pursuing the last remaining cat in the village - a wily old tabby named Claude. He flew through the air like 'Superdog' and hit the front of the bus like bird-shit. The bus stopped and disgorged its passengers; a bunch of Texans on tour some howled in sorrow, while some retired marines snapped with the latest Japanese technology, Jackie's angelic - albeit slightly crushed - face. My children cried and I shed a tear of joy.
The Americans were almost as crushed as Jackie.
"That was a pedigree dog, right?" one asked
"Yes!" I chokingly lied
They had a whip-round and came up with $500. I got the Rug cleaned, gave a tip to Claude's' owner
And had enough left for a new T.V.
I considered giving some money to the dogs' home (for about a half a second). I deferred for fear of becoming the owner of another dog that looked like a rat, bit like a tiger and shit like an elephant.
So a word to all good hearted people out there; If you see a little dog tied to a lamp post, in Freezing weather, looking hungry, forlorn and sad;
LEAVE THE FUCKER THERE!
Little Jackie, the Jack Russell, joined our family from the local dogs' home.
He had been found tied to a lamppost, shivering and shaking on a winter's morning; left by some heartless - but wise - owner.
We brought him home and petted him and it hurt us! It hurt us because Jackie tried to fucking eat us. He showed no bias though, because he also ate the chairs, table, doors and fire brush. Jackie wasn't all daft though, he drew the line at poisons or even broken glass, regardless how cunningly disguised in a sausage or piece of bread. His lightning reactions saved him, many the kiss of leather.
The little darling also attacked the mother-in-law; one of the few - if not only - positives that I can remember as, owner and 'protector'. The mother-in-law asked my son to throw stones at him; I am still awaiting the bill from the glaziers.
I would let Jackie out every morning for his run, unfortunately, he invariably came back. He did look cute though, as he ran in to the living room and without so much as a perfunctory sniff, shit copiously on the Persian rug. The rug - a generous wedding gift - now resides in the shed. Thankfully the flies, having grown attached to it, voted to follow. Jackie recovered from the loss quickly enough and found the mother-in-laws' chair a satisfying substitute.
Jackie met his Waterloo one summer's morn, when he leaped a wall while pursuing the last remaining cat in the village - a wily old tabby named Claude. He flew through the air like 'Superdog' and hit the front of the bus like bird-shit. The bus stopped and disgorged its passengers; a bunch of Texans on tour some howled in sorrow, while some retired marines snapped with the latest Japanese technology, Jackie's angelic - albeit slightly crushed - face. My children cried and I shed a tear of joy.
The Americans were almost as crushed as Jackie.
"That was a pedigree dog, right?" one asked
"Yes!" I chokingly lied
They had a whip-round and came up with $500. I got the Rug cleaned, gave a tip to Claude's' owner
And had enough left for a new T.V.
I considered giving some money to the dogs' home (for about a half a second). I deferred for fear of becoming the owner of another dog that looked like a rat, bit like a tiger and shit like an elephant.
So a word to all good hearted people out there; If you see a little dog tied to a lamp post, in Freezing weather, looking hungry, forlorn and sad;
LEAVE THE FUCKER THERE!
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