airbags

You know what; your right. Now I do believe!

Dogs just have no time for joggers do they?

I can't be absolutely sure of course but Im guessing that the look of fury and rage in my eyes after the hellacious unprovoked attack could have caused at least half of them to have heart attacks and die after the encounter.

The last thing you'll ever see if Harry Callahan is pissed with you and has you in his sights.

Happened about a week ago; put the story up on my facebook but thought I should let youse about the tale as well. Out running in Rossmore (local forest near my house) at a pace that should have that Bekele fella quaking in his boots for 2012 when I was confronted by a dozen of them hunting dogs. I tried to say hello and ask them had they had been having much luck but to my dismay the ignorant toerags didn't seem at all receptive to an exchange of views and went for me; nipping at my legs like fuck for reasons known only to themselves but alas I did not panic. Fearing that if I did not react I would surely be eaten alive I rememberd in my desperation the ancient Celtic technique passed down through generations specifically designed to deal with foxhounds on the rampage. I thus summoned my last bit of strength and stretching every sinew and muscle in my body applied the technique ie. hit the closest one a dorty stinger right on his nose. The dogs backed off fearing a pounding and we sat staring at each other with venom in our eyes. I must have had the Dorty Harry look about me because the dogs slowly retreated yelping like the yellow cowards they are; I was quite enraged at this stage and shouted "pack of cunts" at the pack and then did a u-turn only to run into a little old lady who I do believe must have thought I was the biggest howler in the land as of course the dogs were out of sight at this stage and it looked to all intents and purposes as if I had just called her a "pack of cunts." Suppose these kind of things can happen from time to time...

Aren't you just trying a tad too hard to be shocking and controversial here? I don't believe for one second that you actually believe that.

I thought that was a tad disrespectful the way they barged into al-Megrahi's deathbed at the hospital and started spouting claims about his release being part of a trade deal (which it clearly was). He clearly was in no fit state to get into a debate about the intricacies about Libyan-British trade deals. I know his family seemingly gave their permission but a little cop-on wouldn't have gone amiss on the reporter's part.

The Mexican thing isn't offensive at all. All my "Taig" mates from the North call us Mexicans as well. Tis only a bit of banter.

There not showing the final either. They only cover games involving Ulster sides apparantly even though Armagh are through to the minor final.

I was on the hunt for a bottle of white wine with a gentleman from Mayo a few weeks ago at 6 am. The taxi man told us that the early houses wouldn't open till half 7. Does that one open any earlier?

I slept in a ditch outside the hotel where mine was on all night and my date proceeded to have her nasty way with every fella in the place except me of course. My last memory is strolling in just when it was ending and they were serving bacon and sausage rolls for some bizarre reason. I of course started flinging the food everywhere and then went for another nap in a hedge outside for another couple of hours. So my advice to you would be; don't go. It's not worth the pain.

Strange you say that. I was drinking with her ole boy last week at a festival in Monaghan here. He was a complete madman; his brother owned a pig which I proceeded to chase around the campsite at 7 O'clock in the morning. I couldn't catch the wie bugger for diamonds and ended up tripping on a tent pole. I thus went flying sprawled over a load of tents; I then looked up sheepishly to see Keith Allen looking down at me bemused with more than a hint of disgust on his face. Later on that night/Monday morning; I was drinking paitin with him at the bar. We were reminiscing about the pig which sad to say had earlier that day been cooked on a spit. He was wearing nothing on top and a pair of assless chaps for reasons known only to himself. I've got a kind of dodgy picture of it on facebook that I could upload here for a laugh but I have no idea now. The bar that Keith was serving from served us till 6 am Monday morning in the campsite which Im sure they thought was more than reasonable. Of course; we had to take the piss and my mate started an impromptu jam session with a load of hippies with him playing the drums and the hippies playing anything that came to hand. (a box pf pringles for example). We then decided to have a mass book burning in the adjacent bonfire. God only knows why there was a library of books lying around. Im sure a few "Sieg Heils" and Hitler salutes must have been done for the laugh at the sight of this but memories are very hazy. After the mass book burning at about 8 O'clock, a bottle of gin was produced and it all gets kind of sketchy after that. Im sure that we tried to steal someones Golden Labrador anyhow for the party at some stage. I don't think Keith was overly enamoured with us at this stage anyhow. Bear in mind that this was supposed to be a literary/arts festival. Im pretty sure security will be beefed up next year...

How's the illness? You all better?

This guy is only getting better. Would rep you if I could.

Ring Sting is an absolutly horrible afflication. Currys are thus only reserved for special occasions even though I adore Indain food. Wouldn't wish it on my worst enemy.

Doesn't suprise me at all. His friends were the exact same; but in fairness weren't at all up their own arse and had no attitude at all. He went to Trinity college in Dublin as well. I'll post a pic now but it's on facebook. How would I upload it?

Just thought Id let you know that I was chilling with Dominic West (McNulty) on Saturday at the Flat Lake festival in Monaghan. Lovely man; but his accent is unbelievable, real proper posh English accent; nothing like what he has on the show. I even got him drinking buckfast and have the picture evidence to prove it. I must put it up sometime. Cillian Murphy was a bit of a gobshite however; had no interest in the buckfast whatsoever.

I had my doubts it would be the greatest thing ever but I have indeed been proven wrong. Good work.

Im listening to the Fray right now.

The harps had a crushing defeat to tyholland earlier...

I don't understand why people have to have such an entrenched dogmatic opinion on every single tidbit that comes out in the news. Is this really worth getting angry about one way or the other? This is an old man seemingly at death's door who is being allowed out of jail to die. I understand that his present quality of life is such that really this news won't make much of a difference to him at all. He is virtually comatose in bed anyhow and in reality the only people that this affects are Ronnie's family and the jail staff who won't make as much overtime pay for having to sit and stare all day at a comatose elderly man in bed. So on the balance of things; what harm is it letting him out for his last few days/weeks. Then again, if he had been kept in jail; I don't think I would have lost much sleep either. Relax people.

Just checked my bank balance there on the net more in hope than expectation and am delighted to report that my bank have just lodged 200 quid in my account lessening the blow somewhat of the robbery. I was fucken relieved because I still honestly have no idea how the bastards could have got access to my account without the pin. They must have spied me going to the ATM or something when I was loaded. Am very relieved anyhow.

I saw that episode as well. I also thought it was hilarious. Did you see the get-up he had to wear to pretend he was a bouncer? Looked more like a school swot and didn't he just know it. Also, did you see his impassioned defence of bouncers at the end of the programme?; that they were only trying to ensure the safety of everyone inside. And of course; what do the bouncers give out about? That it was boring and that there wasn't enough people going to the club that night ie. they hadn't been given the excuse to pound on some 10 stone pissed up 18 year old to keep them occupied for the night. It didn't change my opinion on bouncers at all but I don't mind Danny; he doesn't take himself too seriously and has created a niche for himself as a faux cockney wideboy. Id imagine he laughs at his image the most himself. It was also quite funny when he overheard people calling him a prick and he couldn't do anything about it when he was dressed as the school swot hard-nut.

The security guards in Marks and Spencers have no sense of humour and consider it better practice to pursue Chieftain Tanks (wanks) in the privacy of your own home rather than their changing rooms.

Im pretty sure I near came to my demise in Ibiza as well. Snowballs (Acid mixed with Ecstasy) taken at 4 am. Flight home was at 6 am. Estimated effect of snowballs - 18 hours. There is losing your mind and then there is the cataclysmic mindfuck that I went through for those 18 - 24 hours. I couldn't walk as my limbs had all seized up and my arms and legs were going into tremors. Not the shakes just; but actualy massive attacks of wild flailing of both limbs. My mates then somehow managed by some miracle to get me through security with instructions not to open my mouth; they also made sure I didn't walk through with any metal because if they had started searching me, the game was up and I would surely have not been allowed on the flight. I got on the flight anyhow and could hear, clear as day my friends giving out about me. The only problem was that they were fast asleep; it was all in my head as was the incessant music that I had heard throughout the week. There was music playing in my head as clear as listening to a CD. I remember I was actually going to go up to the pilot at one stage and ask him to turn the radio down. I was sitting on the bus back from the airport at around 12 pm convinced that my friends (who were all fast asleep) had teamed up with a couple of Spanish people to wreck my head. I kept hearing the clicking noise from a camera as if they were taking pictures of me and thought they were trying to splash me with water. I just sat on my own for two hours saying over and over to no one in particular "I know what your doing; im not stupid." I had the good sense when I got back that I wasn't fit to go home so with my mate in tow (who had taken them as well) marched straight up to Lidl without saying anything to our other mates (who had all turned against me of course) with our suitcases and bought two bottles of cider. We then went straight to the closest spot where he could drink the cider in peace which appropiately enough happened to be a garden outside an asylum. I think we came pretty close a few times to checking ourselves in. The cider calmed me down eventually and I just treated the music as free radio as it faded gradually but fuck; never again! It's funny now writing about it but holy fuck; at the time I was capable of anything. I really thought I was never going to come out of it and to be honest would have been liable to do anything if my mate hadn't been with me. Never really been able to look drugs in the eye since that infamous day (except good ole poppers of course)