No More Serious Talk Till Monday. Fuck Off.

I’ve had enough.

Crooked bastard bankers everywhere you look.  Senior government ministers up to their magairlí­ in fraudulent, traitorous deals with the bastard, crook banker fuckers, selling their country down the Swanee.

Out in the ocean, we have Russian bastard warships spilling thousands of tons of fuel oil and sending gigantic oil slicks towards our coast.

We have nuclear submarines colliding with each other deep under the sea, which doesn’t surprise me in the slightest.  I could never understand why they don’t give them windscreens for the captain to look out the front.  Watch out!  There’s another fuckin sub!

There’s Sharia Law in Pakistan.  There’s a war in Iraq.  There’s a war in Afghanistan.  Israel is still strangling Gaza and threatening to nuke Iran.

The economy’s going down the fucking toilet and bringing us all with it.  We have demented Youth Defence bastards back on our streets, and Fianna Fáil still cling to power like bluebottles on a bucket of shit.

I’m sick of it.  My head needs a rest.

The Blog Awards are in Cork on Saturday and I think I should just go and enjoy myself for the weekend, like they did in the Weimar Republic between the wars, before the cataclysm engulfed Europe.  Just for a couple of days, let’s pretend none of this shit is happening.

What do you think?

Pint, anyone?

10 thoughts on “No More Serious Talk Till Monday. Fuck Off.

  1. I tried to ignore it. I have no english speaking television for fuck sake. Yet still, I wake up in the middle of the night and BOIL at the thought of the wankers who I didnt vote for buying eachother off and bailing eachother out.

    Pints are the only way my good man. That’ll help. You know what else will help? The Stone Roses Experience in Dolans in March. That’ll help a good bit. Especially with pints.

    Pints Galore.

    And the weather will warm up a bit and the girls will be wearing less. Short skirts and low tops will help.


    Music. Pints. Girls in short skirts and low cut tops.


  2. sounds good to me.
    I’m sick of the bailout bozos who are now threatening to raise our rates; and old Arnie of Kalifornia threatening to raise taxes, and give IOUS (not to those on the dole, of course)

  3. CHeers s hun, ya deserve , Cork on sat hey, Munster playing there on sat night , hoping to get there if get tickets, else a bit of retail therapy i think hey , might bump into you there xx

  4. The Workmans Friend”
    When things go wrong and will not come right,
    Though you do the best you can,
    When life looks black as the hour of night –
    A pint of plain is your only man.

    When money’s tight and hard to get
    And your horse has also ran,
    When all you have is a heap of debt –
    A pint of plain is your only man.

    When health is bad and your heart feels strange,
    And your face is pale and wan,
    When doctors say you need a change,
    A pint of plain is your only man.

    When food is scarce and your larder bare
    And no rashers grease your pan,
    When hunger grows as your meals are rare –
    A pint of plain is your only man.

    In time of trouble and lousey strife,
    You have still got a darlint plan
    You still can turn to a brighter life –
    A pint of plain is your only man.

    — Flann O’Brien (Brian O’Nolan)

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