Archive for December, 2009

Do not drink the water

December 10th, 2009

They have announced that they are going to install water meters in every house in Ireland.

Our esteemed Minister for the Environment, John Gormless is very pleased about this.  He reckons it will be wonderful for the environment as it will make us conserve water.  Of course, one thing we are very short of in Ireland is water.  It never rains here.

Flooding
Ireland is short of water.

Gormless has a face I could never get tired of kicking.

The government see it as yet another way to screw us for more money, so they are fully behind the idea.  I almost feel sorry for Gormless, as I’m sure he genuinely thinks the government are backing this for environmental reasons.  Dream on, Gormless.

To meter our water, they are going to have to install meters.  That should be fun.  It’s all well and good in the suburbs where every identical house has an identical stop-cock out on the pavement, but up here in the mountains, we aren’t quite so conformist.  Back in the sixties I laid the water supply into this house by connecting a pipe to the main.  That pipe then runs through the land here and splits to feed a couple of other houses.  I know where that pipe is but no one else does.  Heh! 

Some years ago the council laid another main up the lane and they probably think I take my water from that.  But I don’t.  So they are going to try to find somewhere to stick a meter but I will tell them precisely where to stick it and it won’t be on my supply.  They can fuck off.

Some of my neighbours have bored wells as there is quite a generous water table here.  Doubtless they are delighted with themselves now as they won’t have to pay.

What they don’t realise is that I share that water table.

You see they get their water from the ground and then pipe their shit into the main sewer.

I get my water from the main water supply and then pump my shit into the ground.

And they wonder why they are always sick?

Well, I’m buggered

December 9th, 2009

Well, ladies and gentlemen.  Have you all got your tubes of KY jelly, your jars of Vaseline and your boxes of Kleenex at the ready?

You had better have, for today is the day when we all get royally bum-fucked.

Today, you are not only going to be raped, but you are going to enjoy it.  Because it is, after all your ‘patriotic duty’?

Having handed the country over to the bankers and the builders for the last few years, the government have discovered that the coffers have been cleaned out, and the bankers and builders are now happily sunning themselves in various tax havens.  It is up to us as ‘patriotic citizens’ to fill the coffers again.

We all have to ‘feel the pain’.  Cowen told us so.  After all, isn’t he taking a massive pay cut down to a miserly €228,466?  The poor man.  How will he ever subsist on that paltry sum?  I must send him the address of his local St Vincent de Paul.

Knowing that he is cutting his salary to a mere fifteen times what I get, will of course make my pain that much easier to take.

I know I am going to be hammered with their fucking carbon tax.  For all of you who question why the governments are pushing the Global Warming agenda so hard, there is your answer – a fucking massive new revenue stream that we can’t complain about because ‘it’s for the good of the planet’.  I filled up on oil yesterday, and I’m filling the car today, even though I don’t need to [I’m still running on petrol I bought in Caen, in France]

So my advice is to just sit back, and enjoy the ride [as it were].

If the clergy don’t fuck us up the arse, the government will.

An arresting problem

December 8th, 2009

I have always had a slightly uneasy relationship with our Boys in Blue.

I suppose it started with my first arrest when I was six.  It was a trumped up charge, and somewhat soured my attitude towards the law.  I mean, how the fuck was I to know she was going to start undressing just as I peered through her window?

I suppose you could class my relationship with the Gardaí as a sort of hate hate relationship.  I think that about covers the spectrum?

Anyway, things changed when I met Herself.

You see, her father was a sergeant. That was a mistake.  When it came to getting married, it was less a case of a shotgun marriage as a case of ‘marry my daughter, you little prick, or that stash of marijuana will see you down for ten years’.  In retrospect, I should have gone with the arrest, as I would have been out and free after five.  As it is, now I’m stuck for life.

Then we went and bought a house in the suburbs.  I fucking hated that place, and for eighteen years, I missed the mountains.  What was worse, we had the local sergeant living one side of us, an inspector on the other and an ordinary Garda living across from us.  It was a fucking nightmare.  Have you any idea how difficult it is to live by the law for eighteen years?  It cost me a fucking fortune in bribes.  Bastards.

I see now they are talking about going on strike.

I’m all for it.

It won’t make the blindest bit of a difference to the constant crime wave we have to endure, as the criminals ignore the Gardaí anyway.

It will mean the rest of us can carry on our lives without being harassed and hassled at every turn though. 

I watched Sharon the news last night, and our esteemed Minister for Justice, Dermot Ahern was on ranting about the proposed strike.  For those of you who don’t know him, he is the progressive type who brought in our new wonderful blasphemy laws, just as every other country was scrapping them.

I gather he is not too pleased with the idea of a strike?  He called it “an affront to democracy” which is fucking rich for a minister who’s government was hammered in the last elections and that refused to acknowledge they no longer have a mandate.

Anyhow, he donned his jackboots and told the Gardaí that if they went on strike that every one of them would be arrested.

Interesting.

Who is going to arrest them?

Let us rejoice

December 7th, 2009

I really must apologise, as I have been a bit grouchy of late.

There have been a few things bugging me like the Bug, which still hasn’t gone away.  I knew those fucking horse pills would be useless and they were.  I might as well have been sticking them up my arse.  [Maybe that’s where I was going wrong?]

Then there was the little episode of the Most Holy Church of the Devine Paedophiles which is still raising the blood pressure a little.

Let us put all that behind us for today.

Let’s look at the wonderful things we have to look forward to?

In two days time, Santa Lenihan is going to visit us and lavish us with gifts of taxes, pay cuts and poverty.  Now, isn’t that something to celebrate? For one terrible moment, there were rumours that the recession is nearly over, but we can rest assured – after Wednesday, we will be firmly back in the deepest depression known to man.

Then the week after next, we would have had Christmas, but it has been cancelled.  The various Chambers of Commerce around the country have decided that as we are all penniless, there is no point in holding a Christmas this year.  If your children complain, just tell them to shut the fuck up.  They will be grateful in the end, as they will be able to brag to their grandchildren that times were really tough in their day.

This day two weeks is the Shortest Day.  The Winter Equinox heralds in the lengthening of the days as we drag ourselves out of winter.  It also heralds the start of the really miserable weather that will last until summer, which is expected to last for two days in May next year.  If you think the weather has been bad up to now, you ain’t seen nothing yet!

NAMA has exceeded all expectations and is going to cost us billions more than the government expected.  Isn’t it nice that we have all been proved right?

So, all in all, we have a lot to be happy about.

To celebrate Christmas, I would like to dedicate this silent performance of The Messiah to all three people on the Interweb who haven’t seen it yet.

Make the most of it.

It’s the only bit of Christmas you’re going to get on this site.

How low can you get?

December 6th, 2009

In 1970, a ten year old girl, Bernadette Connolly was abducted, raped and murdered in County Donegal.

The crime has never been solved.

The known facts of the case are that a van was seen by several people in the vicinity of the abduction.  That van was owned by the Passionate Order of monks, who had a house in the area.  Suspicion centred on a Father Columba who was a member of the Passionate Order.

Naturally, detectives wanted to interview this Fr Columba, and here is where the mystery begins.

An alibi was provided for Fr Columba by another monk, who said Columba was in Dublin at the time.  Yet an eyewitness said they saw that monk in the van with Columba near the scene of the abduction at the time of the crime.  In the early stages of the investigation, Columba was transferred to Africa.  At every turn, detectives were met with silence and non-cooperation.  Vital evidence, such as Bernadette’s bicycle went missing.    The investigation was eventually stopped at the highest level.

Why did the monastery fail to cooperate?  Why did the Church stop the investigation?

To my mind, there can be only one reason.

We know that the Church are quite willing to shield abusers, paedophiles and rapists.  We know their policy of protecting themselves against any investigation, no matter how guilty they are.

Has the Church sunk so low into the depths of depravity that they will knowingly shield and protect a child murderer?

I thought the Murphy report was bad.

But this just defies all belief.

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