Archive for March, 2011

Thoughts on awards

March 20th, 2011

That’s the Irish Thingy Awards over.

When I say ‘over’, I mean just that.  It is a possibility, nay a probability that they won’t be held again.  Damien who has organised the Awards for the last six years is retiring.  He has announced this before, but I have a feeling in my waters that he means it this time.

Needless to say, I was robbed of my gong by that upstart Manuel, and I suppose I should pass on my grudging congratulations.  If I am to be denied what is rightfully mine, the he would be my choice of usurper.

The Awards this year were a bit of a catastrophe, as Beaut.ie weren’t in the running.  I was disgusted to learn this as one of the long standing traditions of the Awards is to rip the piss out of them after.  I have no one to slag off now.  I could pick a site at random, but somehow it isn’t the same.  It’s like Easter without an egg or Christmas without a bottle of whiskey.

I deliberately didn’t nominate myself this year.  I thought I would sit this one out and watch from the side-lines, but that wasn’t to be.  Somehow my name got into the hat but I knew I wouldn’t win.  You see, the votes are rigged.  They have to be, as if they weren’t I would win in every category every year.  That would be disheartening for all the others so they deliberately disbar me.  I don’t mind.  Not in the least.

Congratulations again, Manuel.

And I hope you have eyes in the back of your head.

You’ll need ‘em.

Ya little sleeveen, ya. 

Every picture tells a story

March 18th, 2011

I came across this on the Interweb today.

It’s all in Japanese, but I think you’ll get the gist?

Paddy’s Day rules

March 17th, 2011

I would consider myself to be reasonably patriotic.

I don’t have a flag hanging out over the Manor.  I don’t scream “God Bless Ireland” at every available opportunity.  I don’t weep when I hear the National Anthem [well, internally I do, but that’s because I think it’s a crap anthem, but that’s neither here nor there].  However, when I am abroad, I am very happy to declare my country of birth, and when anyone disparages my country I tend to get annoyed.

So today is Paddy’s Day when everyone wants to be Irish?

That’s fine by me.  If the nearest you ever got to Ireland is reading this site and you still want to claim an Irish ancestry then that’s fine.  Maybe you would like to then pay your bit towards our debt?  No.  I thought not.

I don’t really care what you do today, provided you follow some basic rules.

I don’t care if you go out to the pub and get hammered. 

I don’t care if you go around shouting “Begorrah and Bejayzus” provided you don’t do it within my earshot.  Incidentally, in over sixty years, I have never heard a true Irishman say “Begorrah and Bejayzus”. I just thought you might like to know that?

I don’t care if you want to wear a bit of garden weed on your person.  The American President has the right idea about this stuff – he is ceremoniously presented with a bowlful of the weed every year, and every year it is unceremoniously destroyed before it even leaves the building.  It has something to do with the import of noxious weeds or something.  Heh!

I don’t care if you go around wishing everyone a “Happy St. Patrick’s Day” provided I’m not involved.  If you want to sound like a Hallmark Card on steroids, then that’s your affair.

I begin to get a bit queasy when it comes to face painting.  This is fine if you are a five year old and are at a party but an adult with a multi-coloured face is just cringeworthy.

Where I do draw the line is when we reach leprechaun territory.

Let me make one thing quite clear – there is no such fucking thing as a leprechaun.  To use an image of a little green fucker with a beard and a floppy hat is demeaning and tacky.  And it’s bad enough when people use those images, but when they start wearing large green floppy hats my piss starts to boil.  I hereby promise that any large green floppy hats that I encounter shall be deemed a legitimate target.  If you wear one in my presence, be prepared for a hasty journey to the landfill.

Even thinking about those green hats annoys me.

Fuckit.

I’m off to the pub.

Testing times

March 16th, 2011

A few weeks ago, I was having a quiet pint with Sheriff and he mentioned in passing that my NCT sticker thingy was nearly out of date.

Now sheriff couldn’t give a damn about such mundane matters but he warned me that the Law outside his patch might not be so broad minded.  Leastwise, I waited for a letter informing me that my Car Test was imminent, but the fuckers never wrote.  Another nice little scam – they hoped I wouldn’t notice so they could slap a large fine on me.

I booked a test anyhow and the appointed day is today.

The last time I did the NCT they tried to refuse to test the car on the basis that there were a few dog hairs on the passenger seat.  Fur fuck’s sake!  The tester was a foreigner and a lot shorter than me so I threatened him, and he backed down and agreed to do the test.  Later he tried to fail me again on the grounds that I hadn’t removed the hub-caps and that he didn’t have the specialised tool for the job.  I used my specialised tool [my boot] to remove the caps and once again he was forced to back down.

This NCT lark is just another of the money making scams the gubmint of the day has dreamt up.  They sting you for fifty yoyos and then do their damnedest to fail you so they can sting you some more for a retest.  According to Spanner, they will try to fail you if you have anything in the boot of the car.  He also said that they will bitch if the seat belts on the back seat aren’t neatly clipped together.  Apparently from next year they are going to put an age limit on tyres so that even if the tyres are in pristine condition, they will fail because they are old.  Wankers.

I am heading off shortly.  I am confident that the car will pass.  There aren’t as many dog hairs.  The seatbelts are all clipped neatly together.  The boot however is not empty.

My baseball bat is in there.

I am quietly confident.

Heh!

 

A hair of the car

March 15th, 2011

It has been a busy day today.

Just for starters, I had to go out and never mind what the fuck I had to go out for, because it’ none of your business.

When I got home, some weird inexplicable urge took hold of me, but I decided to clean the car.  Herself has offered to do it a few times, but I have more respect for my vehicle.

Though I say so myself. I did a grand job.  I had forgotten that there were blue carpets.  Also the seats look a lot smaller now that the layers of dog-hairs have been peeled off.  I was glad I did it though as it was a good chance to unpack the car after our last holidays, back in June or whenever it was.  Leastwise it seems like years ago.  I had wondered where that pair of boots had gotten to.

Another good reason for doing the car-clean at this time of year is that I was able to dump all the dog-hairs in the hedges.  I love the sight of robins, blackbirds and other assorted avians ripping each others’ throats out for the sake of a bit of Sandy-hair.  I bet you had forgotten that it’s nest building time?

The whole exercise is a tad on the academic side however.

Only one trip with Sandy and the fucking car will be laden down with dog hairs again.

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