How Not To Kill A Viper

Jesus, they breed their criminals tough in Dublin.

There’s Martin Foley, now, a violent thug and well-known underworld figure. (Isn’t it amazing how they’re all called figures?)

Anyway, Martin gets riddled with fucking bullets AGAIN! Again, I tell you, at 55 years of age. For fucksake, is nothing sacred? Wouldn’t you think, now that Martin is getting to a respectable age, they’d let him alone to get on with his criminal activities in peace? Wouldn’t you?

A charming character, is Martin, up to his neck in all manner of thuggery, crookery and criminality, and rather limply nicknamed the Viper a few years back by the media, when you couldn’t name these bastards publicly. Do you remember that? There was the Penguin, and the General (Martin Cahill, a complete arsehole, subsequently blown away by another crowd of arseholes, who I think might have been IRA or something. He was probably encroaching on their drug-dealing path of peace).

I could never take that Viper thing seriously because it reminded me of an old joke from a Christmas cracker.

I am ze Viper.

I have come to vipe your vindows.

But it wasn’t only that. It was the ridiculous parade of romantic names for scumbags like Foley who were no more than basic lowlife dirt.

I was driving to Galway not so long ago when I noticed a sign: Welcome to Clarinbridge. Home of the Oyster.

Wait a minute, I said.

The Oyster?

Wasn’t that another one of those Dublin criminals, like the Monk, the Penguin, the General? I was nearly sure of it, but which one was he? Was the Oyster the one who had a shoot-out with the Gobshite on the roof of a dog-food factory? Or the one who murdered the Wanker in a drive-by stabbing? Maybe he was the one who nailed the Doughnut’s scrotum to a washing machine? No. That was the Gnu and the Ape. I remember now: the Oyster set fire to the Fool, for eating the Arsehole’s entire family. That’s right, I remember.

Anyway, it looks like he now lives in Clarinbridge.

The problem with glorifying these gobshites with fancy names is that they believe it, which is a problem, but anyway, back to Martin Foley.

Martin, it seems, was shot seven times yesterday as he left a gym in Dublin, but he’s going to be all right. What’s more, he’s been shot before. In fact he was the recipient of a hail of bullets not once, but twice in the past, and before yesterday had already taken 11 bullets.


Now, apart from the obvious questions regarding the standard of hitmen available these days, you’d have to wonder, wouldn’t you? How does a guy manage to get shot eighteen times over his lifetime and still walk around?

There was a clue to this on the lunchtime news, where it was revealed that one of the bullets had bounced off his skull.

Oh right. I see.

Do you know something? If I was a consultant to criminal gangs, which I’m not, I’d be advising them to try a different approach as this one is clearly not working. Going forward.

19 thoughts on “How Not To Kill A Viper

  1. Twenty: For sure. That’s the bit I thought about writing but didn’t because it was too depressing. Of course you’re right. Paul “Insider” Williams is responsible for all that ridiculous nickname shite.

    Squid: Ah go on. Get us started.

    Manuel: I find that shooting a puppy makes me feel better about it.

  2. Reminds me of the old gag up North about the British soldier court-martialled and sentenced to death by firing squad.
    “Any last requests?” barks the moustachioed commander in charge of the squad to the trussed up, trembling squaddie.
    “Yes, could you get the UVF to do the shooting, please? Those cunts couldn’t hit a barn door with a banjo.”
    Therefore, with no evidence to base my speculation on, I am nevertheless happy to assume that Mr Viper was attacked by bored Loyalists.

  3. But Nora, that’s just counting the bullets that actually hit him or bounced off his skull. There were hundreds more that missed. I’d call that a hail of lead.

  4. The man’s got more lead in him than a Chinese-made Dora the Explorer. In fact that’s what he looks like – a cross between Pancho Villa, Schwartzenegger and Dora.

    Why was he called The Viper? The Gopher, more like.

  5. Mr Darwin, you are absolutely correct. Well spotted.

    Problemchild: A man with a skull that makes bullets ricochet can call himself whatever he wants as far as I’m concerned. I won’t be telling him what to do.

  6. “But Nora, that’s just counting the bullets that actually hit him or bounced off his skull.”.

    Getaway! sounds like he was attacked by an F-16, so.

  7. Last summer at an undisclosed village hotel pub, i had the distinct pleasure of beating The Viper armwrestling not once, but twice. Not knowing who he was at the time, I found him to be fairly affable and not much of a drinker. Why one would live his life being paranoid is beyond me. No doubt he is a tough SOB though.

  8. So! You viped ze floor vis ze Viper?

    I don’t think he’s at the psychotic end of the criminal scale, and I suppose when he’s off-duty he’s probably a regular enough Joe. Did you know who he was?

  9. I had no idea who he was until the next morning when my mates came by the house and said “Mike beat The Viper last night arm wrestling”. I have pictures from it too. We were all “on the piss”, well except Foley. He had a glass, not a pint, of a guiness. I should have known something as we had our shirts off and one of my friends was pointing at all the scars on his chest. I am from the states.

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