Archive for June, 2009

Female driver

June 10th, 2009

I had to go down to the village today.

The weather is quite warm again, and frankly I just didn’t feel like driving.  I didn’t feel like walking either, so I let Sandy drive.

She really has become an excellent driver.  She always keeps to the correct side of the road and even managed to wallop two cyclists into the ditch today.

Of course she doesn’t bother with a seat belt, so I have to be careful to watch out for The Law.  They are so fucking sniffy about trivial things like seat belts.

She tried to ‘borrow’ the car keys last night.  I’m not having any of that though.

She can bloody well buy her own car.

sandy_driving

New horizons

June 9th, 2009

A few people have asked me why I am giving up my little business.

There are a few reasons.

Silver Haired Internet Technologies [S.H.I.T.] has been running for a while now and has been surprisingly successful.  There was talk of being quoted on the New York Stock Exchange, but we must be thankful for small mercies.

Income has been damned good, and therein lies the first reason for quitting.  Those fuckers got to hear about it in the tax office and they started sending me bills.  I retaliated to submitting counterclaims, and to date, I am winning.  My Dad always taught me to quit while I’m ahead, so that is the first reason.

The main reason is that my laptop is running very slowly.

You see, web design requires quite a few programmes, and they take up a lot of disk space and a lot of memory.  Worst of all though is all the crap I am left with cluttering up my machine.  I have all the copies of the web sites and all the files that I never used but keep ‘just in case’.  40Gb is just too much when it clashes with my large collection of porn photographs.

There are other reasons of course.  I am getting a little tired of people phoning me at four in the morning complaining that they have just received an email offering them a larger penis.  I usually reply that if they had a larger penis they might find something more interesting to do at four in the morning than reading emails.  I am getting good at customer relations, and it’s a pity to waste that talent, but that’s life.

I am also getting complaints from the neighbours about the sign on the lane.  I had trouble with clients finding Head Rambles Manor so I had to put a large sign at the entrance to my lane saying “S.H.I.T. HERE”.  My neighbours are very intolerant for some reason.

So the wind down is proceeding.  It’s taking time, but it’s hard to kill a good thing.

I want to concentrate on my new business.

Anyone want to buy a pill that guarantees to enlarge your member by eighteen inches?

U2 can be a musician

June 8th, 2009

Will someone please tell me what it is about U2 that makes them so popular?

They are reputed to be one of the biggest bands in the world, and their concerts are generally sold out within minutes, but there is one small fact that people seem to overlook…

They are fucking woeful.

There isn’t a single decent instrumentalist among them, and their singing [if you can call it that] is somewhat reminiscent of the sound of a tom cat being de-knackered.

Every now and then I am subjected to a piece of one of their efforts, and they always sound like they are playing the same tune.  I admit to not listening very carefully as I would rather experience a thousand volts through my testicles [and I guarantee, I would sound better], but they seem to have about as much variety as a cream cracker.

This does seem to be an Irish phenomenon.

Van Morisson is another one who seems to be able to captivate audiences with his ability to croak out death dirges.  He always seems to perform as if it is his last wish before execution.  Yet people talk about him in reverent tones as if he could actually sing.  Weird.

Of course if I really want to plunge myself into the depths of despair, I listen to Mary Coughlan.  It doesn’t really matter which one.  The one in government is bad enough, but to scrape the barrel of depression, one can’t beat the other one.  Jayzus!  If you replaced her entire bloodstream with liquid Prozac I doubt it would be enough.

Maybe I’m missing something?

Is there some secret trick to listening to these acts? 

Is there some magic potion I haven’t heard about that you take, and it somehow transforms their efforts into real music?

I’m baffled.

Or maybe I should just take more drugs?

Ripples

June 7th, 2009

Times have been a little unsettling here in Head Rambles Manor of late.

There was nothing bad, as such, but the routine of life was slightly disturbed by a series of events which caused some slight ripples in our otherwise calm life.

Life here is normally pretty quiet and peaceful.  The day to day activities of getting drunk, beating up tourists and sabotaging road works have a certain tranquillity about them which gives me a sense of order and of place.  So, when something comes along that upsets that routine, I feel a sense of unease.

Over the last few months, I have had to deal with some institutions with which I normally only have a remote and passing acquaintance.  For example there was The Wedding which was a thoroughly enjoyable occasion but still led to a certain amount of upheaval.

Another institution which I try to avoid like the plague is our so called health system.  Unfortunately, I have had a lot of dealing with them over the past few days, involving hospital stays and general mayhem.  I hate hospitals.  The last time I was involved with them was as a result of my send-off party in RTE which ended in spectacular style and necessitated a couple of nights hospitality in the local MRSA centre.  That’s another story though.  Suffice it to say that I survived, but only just.

The last few days involved a lot of wandering around wards, and sitting in the hospital restaurant.  The hospital in question has no grounds, so leaving the building meant standing around in an industrial estate which isn’t my idea of fun.  So what did I do about my little hobby?

In the normal course of things, hospitals seem to have a strange aversion to pipe smoking, which is something I can’t quite understand.  I think it very unreasonable of them.  I would have thought that the site of a pipe smoker would relax people in an otherwise anxiety provoking situation, but they don’t see things from my enlightened point of view.

This time though I had my e-pipe.

One of the great advantages of an e-pipe is that you don’t waste time lighting it.  It is instantaneous.  Also it can be slammed into a pocket without worry of spontaneous combustion.  It also doesn’t leave a tell tale smell of pipe smoke.  This all meant that a quick puff in the lift or on the stairs was no problem at all.  In fact at one stage, I happily sat in the restaurant and puffed away, and no one noticed.  I was caught at one stage in the lift when the doors opened unexpectedly.  A couple of women entered and I smiled at them in a friendly way, but then realised I was gently exhaling a cloud of vapour at the time.  They got off very quickly at the next floor.

Another time, I was lying there in the room, half asleep, and the pipe going like the clappers when a nurse walked in.  I should explain that the staff in the hospital are the nicest people you could meet, so instead of hosing me with a fire extinguisher, she gently reminded me that the hospital [in fact, the whole fucking country] is a no smoking area.  I told her I wasn’t smoking which confused her.  I gently explained, and she was impressed.  She was so impressed that I was given carte blanche to smoke in my room.  She was so impressed that I think we could have made a night of it, but unfortunately she kicked with the other foot.  You win some, you lose some.

To cut a long story short, life is now back to normal.  I hope.

The elections are over, my car is fully certified, my daughter is at last married and all bodily bits are back where they should be.

In short, I don’t expect anything to happen for the next couple of months.

I love peace and quiet.

Now where is my gun?

Separated at birth?

June 6th, 2009

Is it just me or has anyone else noticed the resemblance?

There are slight differences though.

Tommy Cooper was a comic genius who rarely failed to make me laugh.  His death was a tragic loss.

Eamonn Ryan is just a grinning moron who just hasn’t got a fucking clue.  I wish he would crawl back under that rock from whence he came..

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