Archive for February, 2010

A very moving tribute

Grandad February 28th, 2010

Looking back, I think I may have been a little harsh in my treatment of Herself.

She has been [and continues to be] a good wife and a good mother.

During our thirty five and more years together, she has stood by me in my times of trouble and tribulation.  She worked very hard to pay the mortgage.  She managed to bring up our daughter K8 with only relatively minor psychological problems.  She was even good enough to keep her family at bay [most of the time], leaving me to lead a peaceful life.

Yes.  She has been a wonderful wife to me, and I have treated her harshly, I’m sure you will agree.

This is going to change.

The time has come for me to show my appreciation for the years of backbreaking sweat and toil she has put into making our marriage a happy one.

I have a little surprise for her.

I have been doing some renovations when she hasn’t been around.  I have been busy tidying and decorating.  I am finished and I think she will love my work.

Tomorrow, I am going to break the wonderful news to her.

I’m moving her out of the coal hole at last.

I hope she is very happy in the garden shed.

Haute cuisine cardboard

Grandad February 27th, 2010

I have never flown with Ryanair, so I can’t claim to know much about it.

Apparently though they have scratch cards.  I don’t know if you get one free with every ticket, which I doubt, as Ryanair seem to charge you for breathing, or whether you buy them on the flight.

I do know a bit about scratch cards, even though I don’t buy them either.  However, I have bought them, scratched them and collected my winnings.  One thing I do know about them is that if you win more than a certain amount, then you have to collect your winnings elsewhere, as presumably most shops don’t carry thousands in cash, just in case.

Apparently, a passenger on a Ryanair flight had one of these scratch cards. He scratched it, and blow me down with a feather – he won.   €10,000.  A nice little sum?

Now Ryanair are the type of airline who would, if they could get away with it, ask their cabin crew not to wear underwear and their cockpit crew to fly naked, as it would cut down on weight and increase profits.  The idea of lugging €10,000 in notes all the time would be an anathema to them.  In other words – they don’t carry that kind of cash around with them.

Our friend who won wasn’t too happy with this.  He threw a hissy fit.  He demanded his winnings on the spot.

He was told he would have to collect his winning when they landed.

If I were in his shoes, I would spend the rest of the flight happily dreaming up ways and means of spending €10,000.  That represents quite a few pints of Guinness.  It represents a very nice holiday somewhere.  If Romania were the land of your dreams, you could probably buy yourself a house there.

This wasn’t good enough for our friend.  He stamped his little foot and demanded his money there and them.  Maybe he wasn’t the dreaming type?

In frustration, what did he do?

He ate the scratch card.

As gestures go, that was quite spectacular.  I’m not sure what he gained by it, but I do know he lost €10,000.

I hope it tasted nice.

It was the most expensive meal he ever had.

Don’t believe me?

A possible answer

Grandad February 26th, 2010

One of the charges that is frequently aimed at people who criticise the government is that we are too negative.  We complain, but we never give ideas as to how things may be improved.

Well, here is a little suggestion.

If I had any sort of influence on how democracy would be run, I would abolish politicians’ clinics.  Yes.  It’s that simple.

We have a bunch of brainless low-life running this place at the moment.  They are paid sinful wages yet they rarely appear to do the actual job of running the country.  Why?  Because they are all back home in their constituencies doing things they should not be doing.

On the radio recently, people in Limerick were asked what they thought of that little perjurer O’Dea.  They said he was a fantastic representative.  Why?  Because he would turn up at all the funerals.  For fuck’s sake!!  The Brain Dead are impressed because some wanker turns up at a funeral?

The latest little nugget is that Trevor Sargent is to be investigated because he wrote to the Gardai asking for charges against a constituent to be dropped.  Whatever the rights and wrongs of what he did, I would ask what the fuck he was doing meddling in a single bloke’s affairs when he should have been looking after his government department?

The problem with Irish politics is that TDs are under the impression that their job is to sort out people’s problems.  What’s worse, they are under the impression that they only have to write something on government headed notepaper and that problem will be solved.  This should not be the way of things.

When I vote for a candidate, I vote not because I like his policies on how the country should be run, but because his policies are less damaging than the other candidates.  One way or another, I vote because I want him [or her] to contribute to running the country.

Unfortunately, too many people vote for a candidate because he has promised to get the potholes in the road fixed, or that he will sort out some planning problem.  This is so wrong as to be laughable.  What we end up with is gobshites, the likes of Jackie Healy-Rae and Willie O’Dea who haven’t a fucking clue about how a country should be run, but who are guaranteed to turn up at a funeral or to get you a medical card.

If I have a problem with planning permission or holes in the road, I go to my local council.  It’s what they are there for, and it’s why I elect my local councillors.  It is not the business of my local TD in any way, shape or form.  TDs should be expressly forbidden from messing in local affairs.

So my answer is to abolish the clinics.  Forbid TDs from having any say in anything other than national affairs.

Think of the advantages -

TDs would be elected on national policies, and not because they are good at sorting trivia.

TDs would be available at all times for national business and would have the excuse that they ‘have to deal with their constituency’.

Travel [and its expense] would be drastically decreased.

Fewer TDs would be required, thereby saving millions.

We might actually get TDs who have something to offer other than the fact they are someone’s son or daughter.

The advantages are really too many to mention.

So why don’t we insist on this simple solution?

Should I wear a gingham dress?

Grandad February 25th, 2010

Where the fuck is everyone?

I used to get a right clatter of visitors from Ireland, which I suppose would be logical.  Second on the list was the Americans, who for some weird reason seem to find some masochistic pleasure in reading my musings.  Then came the UK who never really copped on to this lark, and then finally the rest of the world would dribble in.

For the last few weeks things have changed and I am really fucking worried.

Take today for example.  So far, of all my visitors there are five times as many American visitors as there are Irish.  That is not right.  It is mid morning, so everyone has been at their desks for a couple of hours.  That gives [say] half an hour to do your day’s work, and you should be well into your browsing, viewing porn, playing with Twitter and updating your Facebook by now.  Where the fuck are you?

This is an ongoing trend.  Each day I see that America tops the rankings.  Why?  Have they all decided to learn proper grammar and spelling over there?  Am I now part of the school syllabus?  It is very worrying as I may find myself starting to talk with an American accent, which as we all know is the first step on the road to hell.  Next thing I would find myself insisting on lunch in McDonalds, having to watch TV3 all the time and I would start using words like ‘awesome’ and ‘totally’.   You wouldn’t wish that on me, would you?

I suppose one possible explanation is that the naysayers are right – the Irish “blogging” scene is dead.  Most of the decent crowd have dumbed down their intelligence level and moved to Twitter instead?  I don’t know.

There again, I noticed that the list of nominations for the Irish Blog Awards is huge.  I have never heard of the majority of the sites listed, which would lead one to suspect that there are a lot of people out there giving their sites several names in the hopes of grabbing some limelight?  It’s a scurrilous idea, and I’m just glad that I thought of it before the nominations opened.  I have actually been nominated 327 times under various names and guises, but don’t tell Mulley.

So I’m appealing to all you Irish out there – please don’t let me become Americanised.

And if I don’t appeal to you, maybe if I wear my gingham dress I would be more appealing?

I suppose it’s worth a try?

Two up two down

Grandad February 24th, 2010

A couple of weeks ago, I decided to expand my property portfolio.

I know property is supposed to be a dirty word these days, but I refuse to believe everything I read in the papers, and anyway this property was on the market at a reasonable price, so I bought it.

It is a nice little property.  It’s a two story, two bed detached house.  The ground floor is open plan and upstairs there are two bedrooms with a wee mezzanine level.  All rooms are en-suite.

guinea pig house
Guinea pig house.

It is intended to go outdoors, but while this fucking snow and frost persist, it is remaining in the kitchen.

It is working very well.  There is a trapdoor between the two levels, so it can serve as one large house, or two apartments, hence the water bottles on each level.  Unfortunately, Minnie has discovered that she can open the trapdoor from underneath, so she has to stay in the penthouse suite, while Fizz has the ground floor.

Normally they are very happy there.  I separate the guinea pigs at night so they can get some peace and quiet, and then open the trapdoor so they can meet up and have a smoke and a gossip during the daytime.

This morning was different.

I don’t know what got into them, but as soon as I came into the kitchen, they kicked up a mighty racket.  Both of them started twanging the bars, which they know drives me mad.  I checked that they both had food and water, which they had which made a change.  I then opened the trapdoor, thinking they might be hankering for a bit of a natter.

That was a mistake.

Minnie gave a loud yell of “get your knickers off, you little slut” and she went hammering down the stairs to bugger Minnie.  Lesbian guinea pigs are so fucking tiresome.

All hell broke loose as Minnie chased Fizz around the house, as I have a feeling that while Minnie is a lesbian, Fizz isn’t, which makes life difficult for Fizz.  Minnie roared obscenities and Fizz kept telling her to fuck off.  They made one hell of a racket.  I couldn’t hear myself think.

I had to arrest Minnie for harassment in the end, and she is now sentenced to five hours in her old cage on top of the rubbish bin where she is in a sulk.  Fizz [as you can see from the photograph] is sitting, looking rather stunned and is probably wondering what the fuck happened.

Maybe, on second thoughts this property lark isn’t quite all that it’s cracked up to be.

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