In the doghouse
Grandad July 6th, 2010
There is supposed to be a recession on in this Godforsaken country.
On one side you have shops, factories and businesses closing. You have daily reports on the news about more doom and gloom and banks being given billions more as a thanks for screwing us.
On the other side you have the government telling us that the worst is over and we are on the way to recovery.
Personally, I tend to take the government’s word with a super-tanker load of salt.
During a recession, you would imagine people would be happy to cut a deal. You would think they would be happy to make a few extra bob. You would think that the money grubbing days of the Celtic Tiger are well and truly gone.
Apparently not.
During our first week there, we started scouting around for somewhere to stay for the second week. Everyone we spoke to said the same thing – ‘Ah Jayzus! Business is terrible. There are no visitors around at all. People are desperate to let their houses. You’ll have no problem finding a place.’
Apparently not.
We phoned a shed load of people about renting their properties. I expected a little hassle over the smoking business, but that wasn’t the problem. The problem was Sandy.
What the fuck is wrong with people? It’s not like I was being a skinflint – I was prepared to go as high as €50 a week to rent their fucking houses but they all said the same thing – no dogs. What the fuck is that all about? It’s not like Sandy isn’t house trained. She chooses one spot in the sitting room and will only pee and poo in that one spot, so it’s not like she fouls up the whole house.
I just wish I could say the same for Herself.
Subscribe to audio
