There’s a hurley in my bathroom.
Why is there a hurley in my bathroom? I noticed it just now when I went to wash the blood and dog-drool off my hands after another failed attempt to kill the Hound of Hell. A hurley, nailed to that nice ethnic little mahogany man with doors on his chest, that I use for storing toilet rolls. He was a present somebody bought long ago in one of those right-on fair-trading ethnic shops, but I digress.
This looks like the work of the Continuity GAA, the splinter group that sprang up after the vote to allow rugby and soccer in Croke Park. I knew they’d accidentally sent representatives to the Caribbean to study parrots, with a view to teaching them Irish. I also knew that those representatives accidentally strayed into Jamaica and became convinced that bobsleighing should become the fourth official sport, once the Continuity GAA regained control of Croke Park. From Jamaica, they accidentally strayed into the Dominican Republic and then, accidentally, into Haiti. I heard whispers about their connections with the Tonton Macoutes, but this seems to be proof positive that they’ve resorted to voodoo to achieve their ends. The smoking chicken.
Now, I know you must be wondering what makes me so sure this is the Continuity GAA. Well, besides the hurley, I also happened to notice a message sledge-hammered into the wall in foot-high letters: Fuck Off Ya Limerick Brit Bastard Fuckers. And as for the voodoo, well I never saw a mahogany hurley before.
Magic or coincidence? You decide.
By the way. What’s the third official sport of the GAA?