I started this site in March 2006, intending to post the occasional narrow-minded, drunken, parochial rant, but I’m afraid the site hasn’t been an obedient child and — in spite of my best efforts — has grown far beyond what I expected.
Since changing over to the dot-com address this year, I’ve seen a steady increase in the number of goose-milkers, heron-stranglers, headcases, lunatics, maniacs, the occasional imbecile, and of course, a growing band of fucking crazy people perfectly normal, well-balanced regular contributors.
I didn’t know, until somebody told me, that this was a political site. I thought it was the usual blend of enraged muttering, drunkenness and low menace, which is how how my associates approached it when they attended the Blog Awards on my behalf in March.
I didn’t win anything at the Blog Awards, despite the obvious consequences for the judging panel, but my associates did manage to bring back a bottle of bubbly as the Best-Dressed Men consolation prize. That didn’t save the judges, who now sleep with the fishes.
It also didn’t save the idiot who threatened to kill me in September. This fucking fool works for a chewing-gum company and didn’t like me calling for a ban on the disgusting stuff. That post was rapidly followed by The Silence of The Chewing Gum Killer and The Confession of The Chewing Gum Killer.
People disagreed with me about a lot of things, but that’s all right.
Some people didn’t like my views on the conviction of Joe O Reilly. Others didn’t like my views on the conviction of Wayne O Donoghue. A lot of fuckhead right-wing Americans didn’t like me laughing at the idiot Bush. They don’t believe Bush is behind this kind of thing, or they don’t care, or they’re too fucking stupid to figure it out. Whatever. Then, of course, there were the people who wanted to convict Niall McElwee of things that aren’t a crime — like getting promoted instead of them, the small-minded jealous fuckers.
Perhaps the most small-minded were the crowd of fuckers who wanted to believe, more than anything else in their miserable little lives, that the McCanns had something to do with the disappearance of their daughter. The internet was full of them, though the comments on this site tended to be relatively restrained.
My post on Sikhs joining the police raised the blood pressure for a lot of people, but at least the discussion was relatively civilised, unlike some of the Nazi maniacs who responded to the later item on Wernher Von Braun.
There were a few fucking reptiles during the year. For instance, we had this fraudulent homeopath who threatened the mother of an autistic child. Funnily enough, the fraud didn’t have the balls to follow through when exposed. Then we had those fools at Ace Internet Marketing, who stole material from other people’s web sites and then threatened various bloggers, including myself, with legal action. To their eternal credit, my hosts told these people to go fuck themselves. But of course, these cretins were harmless compared to the Irish Independent, the newspaper that stole content from an Irish site and, when contacted, re-published the material under a different title. They were also the hypocrites who contributed to poor Katy French‘s delusions and went on to make money from her death.
As the year went by, I began to realise that everything is about politics, especially as that egregious, slithery fucking crook Bertie Ahern continued to lead our government despite being exposed for the fucking reptile he is.
As I write, the Planning Tribunal is stripping away Ahern’s lies, exposing him for what he is, and the people are finally beginning to realise in their little peanut-sized brains that maybe they made a mistake re-electing this fucking criminal, though they can’t say I didn’t warn them. So much for democracy. Do you know something, you should have to pass a special exam before being allowed to vote. A basic intelligence test along the following lines: do you know as much as a penguin?
The disgrace of this crook leading his corrupt party in government occupied much of my year, and much of my waking life. I eventually ended up with so many posts about him that he earned a special section at the top of the page. The fucking crook.
Wrinkly Paddy went deaf in January, giving us all a laugh, and we sure needed a laugh when we read about Adam Keane, a rapist who received a three-year suspended sentence. At the end of the year, the same judge, Paul Carney, astounded us with another lenient sentence, prompting some people to speculate that he might actually not be as stupid as he seems. Adam Keane’s sentence was increased to ten years by the Court of Criminal Appeal, setting a cast-iron precedent. Perhaps I was wrong. Perhaps we should be saying Clever old Judge Carney?
The gloom in January was lightened for us by the idiot Jade Goody , and also by memories of Wirey, but there was other grim reading to come during the year. We had the Kerry rapist – a complete bastard, and suggestions of possible official collusion in a dark story from the past. This prompted me to write again about the cannibal murders and to ask why the only person now facing charges is the policeman who told the truth.
There were some outstanding moments, including February’s two rugby matches at Croke Park, and the playing of GSTQ: The Croke Park Trilogy – Part One, . Ratzo had a plan of his own for the Ireland – England match, the little Pope-Dog swine.
But for us in Limerick, the joy was punctured by crashing out of the Heineken Cup: Llanelli 24, Munster 15.
Internationally, we had the Virginia Tech massacre, an event that prompted lively debate on this site, and sometimes heated discussion about Gun control in America, and the Second Amendment.
Thanks to this guy in March for lightening the mood with a magnet up his arse. And then, in April, we had the traditional Bock blasphemy which, unfortunately, offended nobody. Thank the Lord for my dogs.
In April, we were lectured on information technology by Bertie the polymath: e-voting was his chosen subject, and we were all idiots and Luddites for raising concerns about the safety of our democracy. In my opinion, they should all be dumped in the canal like we always did with rubbish.
I started to get excited in May at the prospect that the people would re-elect the same gang of crooks, which they duly did, and from there, things only got worse. The Serbs won the Eurovision, proving that the entire thing is a fucking zoo and that the genocide in Bosnia is forgotten. Bock moved to WordPress, proving that I’m insane, but of course, on the bright side, it was time to start thinking about the Midlands Music Festival, which I later told you all about here, once my brain and liver had bounced back a little. Oh, and May also brought us the Pulp Muppets.
June brought some interesting developments. The government finally got tough on crime and the Niggar Family brought us all a laugh. Tony Blair got a new job, giving us all another laugh — a bitter little chuckle.
And I embarked on my first special mission!
Jock Hunter read one of the Bock’n’Paddy fairytales for us and I told you a little about him here. Then we had Jock reading a rather darker tale from Bock.
People seemed to like the photos of this old town
and others seemed to like the photos of Istria.
They also liked the later pics of the Cliffs of Moher, though they were sobered by this collection from Auschwitz. When anybody starts to tell you about the disgraceful conditions workers face in China, agree with them, and then draw their attention to these pictures, showing how child labour built America.
June was the month I bumped into my old buddy, Paul, and keeping the musical theme, I got to utter an immortal phrase.
Things weren’t all bad in July either. For instance, we had the spectacle of hundreds of Barbra Streisand fans getting mud all over their fur coats, the fucking eejits. I laughed and laughed.
There was plenty of music. Lefty left me still puzzled, and no-one could offer help. Everyone enjoyed Leon Redbone, and we started looking forward to the Festival.
In August, it was Princess Di’s anniversary and I was finally able to reveal to you what really happened in the tunnel.
Then we had this little video about the Catholic Church. On the subject of bastards, we had the government finally shafting Shannon Airport by failing to intervene in Aer Lingus’s decision to move its Heathrow slots to Belfast. That was when I had the brainwave: since Dublin and Belfast are the only parts of Ireland that matter to politicians and the media, let’s secede. Let’s set up the Mid-West Party, with only one policy: money for us. Fuck, if it works for Dublin, it can work for us. Speaking of Dublin, I received a bit of personal abuse for this post, including some from a young man who really should know better. I changed my comments policy as a result and banned a few people.
Of course, I mustn’t forget the Midlands Music Festival, which knocked out a good section of my liver and my brain cells.
It was also the month when Ratzo set up his low-cost airline, flying deluded cripples to Lourdes where they could be fleeced and pick up diseases from the filthy water.
Only one thing happened in September, Northern Rock collapsed, triggering a chain reaction of banking failures.
In October, Sean Brady was lightly cardinalised, and of course, obviously I had an opinion on it. I also had a view on McBrearty getting €3 million from the State for being framed. October brought the first bomb attack on Benazir Bhutto, and it seemed like only a matter of time before an assassin would succeed, as happened on the 27th December. Who was surprised? Not me. The same month, in India, we saw the Mayor of Delhi murdered by monkeys.
That month, we enjoyed the Stargate puppet show and the eviction of 150 nuns from a Polish convent. We also got a laugh when Australia and New Zealand both crashed out of the World Cup the same day.
In November, Sudan blew its top over a teddy-bear.
Pity I didn’t think of setting up a chain of effigy shops there while I was at it. If things turned too nasty, I was all ready to deploy the military version of my mobile consecrator but luckily the Sudanese saw sense. I hope they’re as understanding when they see the lard Muhammad planned instead of the chocolate Jesus. I came in for a bit of stick after criticising people who use Islam as an excuse for savagery, but hey! I’m a big boy now, and all grown up and everything, so I tried to balance things out a bit. Oh well.
November brought us yet more government disgrace with the breast cancer scandal. It’ll only annoy me if I have to tell you about it again. Read it here, and then form orderly mobs with flaming torches.
November was the month a man was jailed for shagging his bike, which struck me as a bit odd. Getting jail, I mean, not screwing the bike. Fuck it, whatever floats your boat, is what I say. November was also the month when I wrote about a violent teacher and received a good amount of private correspondence as a result. There are a lot of angry people out there, let me tell you. Robert Plant and Alison Krauss made an album together, which I liked for a while, though I’ve grown weary of it now, and I still haven’t finished decorating that room. Apart from that, I was still asking what dirt his former employers have on Bertie Ahern. I await an answer.
In December, the Tribunal got the first firm evidence that there was no dig-out among friends, but a concerted attempt to channel funds corruptly to Bertie Ahern. As the month went on, Bertie’s story became thinner and thinner until he finally snapped and revealed his ugly side, telling the Tribunal his private life was none of its damned business. I’ll bring you the whole story when it emerges.
It was also the month I visited the cardiologist for a check on the oil, water, plugs, points and filters. Hmm. I’ll do my best to be good. Promise. Also health-related, but much more serious, was this story about a woman being disgracefully mistreated by our pathetic health service. And of course, we had the inevitable child-raping clerics managing somehow to organise a cover-up of a report exposing their abuse, though the report was so insipid as to be almost a cover-up in itself. The police, as usual, deferred to the abusers, and launched no investigation of their own.
In December, I embarked with Parkenstein on our second mission, hunting Disparager, and I suspect there might be many more before we’re done.
The month was nearly over when Pakistan exploded with the murder of Benazir Bhutto, and things are very unclear as I write this.
So that’s where we are now. A crazy weekend beckons, and I’ve decided to go to press a little early while I still can.
I’d like to thank all the kind people who’ve put up with my ranting over the past year, and also those who took the trouble to disagree with me. I hope we can have as much fun in the coming twelve months.