The Weeping Sore Of The World

I always like to start off a post hot!

Oprah had went to schools in America and talked to the black kids there. She asked them what they wanted in life and they answered things like iPods and X-boxes whatever they are. She then went to Africa and asked those kids the same thing and they wanted frivolous things like food on the table, education and to become doctors and airline pilots she then opened up a school in South Africa.

I don't like Africa. There I said it. Stone-age values with AK-47s whatever civilisation there was got the fuck out and stayed out, just like the middle east and Ireland.

AK47s shocking pink and flip flops.

George Clooney looking all gorgeous and rugged talking about how if you ignore the problems it won't just go away, well I think it will if we stop feeding them.

What happens when we give aid to the poor countries of Africa? We feed them and they make more Africans also the current dictator lines his pockets.

What a cute wee killer, thats his life and no matter how many bleeding heart stories the BBC tell no one will do anything because there is not much to do.

I say stop feeding the fuckers and only deal with the 5% of Africa that is semi civilised and has something to offer us . Its harsh and it leaves many to their fate of probable doom but they have that anyway, its not like the Yanks are going to go in there without the lure of oil. The only way to get the Yanks into Africa is for the Chinese and their ever growing needs and military to take an interest in the continent as they have been doing.

People are always calling for the Yanks to go here and there and when they go somwhere its branded as imperialism and now get the fuck out.

Remember Mogadishu in 1993? or Black hawk doon to you know nothings. Well this is a Somali soldier in 2007 getting dragged through the streets. Not much changes in that shit-hole of a place.

Fuck Live Aid and all the rest, let them kill themselves off with aids and stupidity why should we spend millions and billions when our own countries need it ? Sort yerselves out, start acting the white man and then we'll talk.

Until then kill, rape and burn people alive in churches because the west doesn't care that much going by the response Dafur, Zimbabwe or Kenya gets just throw in some money so they can't complain.

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I Got A Book Deal

When I started blogging in August 2006 I was just having a bit of fun. I laughed at all of those fools who talked about writing books and would post a few boring chapters every now and then.

Maybe there was something wrong with me cos I thought they were shite while others begged for more but because I'm a nice person I didn't comment and if they entered competitions I'd vote for them cos who am I to stand in the way of their dreams, they'd find out soon enough.

I made up the joke, "What do you call a failed writer?............... A Blogger."

Then it happened, over the last month I have been in contact with some people who have offered me a great book deal.
I didn't want to jinx it by telling everyone but now I've committed myself.

I can choose 6 books from only 1p each.

World Books really is the simplest way to a dazzling array of high quality books at discount prices. Fiction bestsellers, homes and gardens, health and fitness, cookery, history, reference and leisure - World Books has got it all.

free colour magazine every month, unbeatable offers, guaranteed discounts, sneak previews, competitions and freebies

Sure I have to buy a further 4 books a year but that's what fake names and addresses are for.

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Topless Tuesday

Paris Hilton has decided to go topless :::::::::yawn::::::: we looked inside her head and no she has neither brains nor beauty just a hollow shallow shell.

Yeah yeah Paris we've seen it all before a 12 year-old boy is built better than you.

No Vin not you too, once they get the taste of babies they become monsters. Hey Vin nice career you got going on there how about you blow yer nose and talk properly.

Now on to the story of how I met Ginger Gerry

Goodbye you disgusting ginger git.

When yer a special undercover agent a MI5 operative with double 'O' Clearance you meet some rather unsavoury characters also some savoury and some sweet ones. Many many bitter and sour ones that make me look like Mr fucking Jolly.

I was sent into a Belfast fast food 'restaurant' only Yanks would call them restaurants as an undercover employee to evaluate a package code named 'Ginger Gerry' I was a trouble shooter who could actually shoot trouble makers.

Word on the street was that Gerry 'Ginger' Glennon was ex an IRA terrorist who served 20 years for murder and now he was a wino or at least was pretending to be one.

One night while I was getting some chips for an order or 'French fries' as mongs call them Gerry entered the premises, he was either inebriated or a master at that martial arts style called Zui Quan in which you act drunk to confuse yer opponent .

He was shouting how he was going to shoot everyone so I left the chips and faced off with Ginger Gerry, he had streaming snot running into his mustache and bits of food and vomit stuck in his beard.

I grabbed his arm, he knew the drill and I frog marched him out making sure the doors hit him.
I had come to the conclusion that Gerry was a real wino, the flesh eating virus on my hands confirmed that. I went into quarantine and entered my report.

I hear from a source on the street who shall remain nameless that Ginger Gerry is dead. Some say he died in hospital of aids, others say he drown in the river Lagan while trying to save a puppy. However he died I have one thing to say. Fuck he was minging!

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I'm A Bottom Feeder

The post title does not mean I've turned ghey.

What a way to start the week, expect more of the same I'm regular and consistent.

During the summers when I was young in the wee village of Frigadoon we had a festival to mark the time when one of the lost tribes Israel settled in Scotland and founded the village, they were called the Knudsenites originally it was one of the tribes that God wanted completely wiped off the face of the Earth but we promised to change our ways which means we lied of course and continued to orgy and binge drink in private.

Not like God has a clue of whats going on, hes too busy trying to sort out the Catholics and the Muslims with their famous 'we are the best pedos' competition, a close call on that one.

The whole village would sit out on the grass and drink wine made by the vicar, his secret ingredient was Yank tourist blood, he also baked lovely French bread, no Frenchies available so he ground up the bones of an Englishman to make that.
We'd sit and dunk our bread and listen to the cries of the new policeman as he screamed inside the wicker effigy we light up at dusk.

I was young and thought all gurls were icky, I still do and I'd wish they'd clean their stench trenches once in a while, also I wish they would do something about the dampness in their gunties when I enter the room, it smells like a fish market.

There was this gurl named Tracy, Green was her last name but who cared she was the fat ugly gurl that hung around with the hottie. We all called her 'Tracy Tree-trunks ' because it sounded funny and her legs were fat.

Whats that? you say that's cruel? no it isn't its character building, she went on to become a famous swim suit model, no wait that was Stacy Lard arse Tracy was the one that hung herself.

You know thinking back on it maybe it was a tad cruel but hey funny at the time and that's what matters.

Nothing really to do with the story except there is a gurl and a dog.

Now this part is totally true, its a you had to be there moment but I don't care cos its my blog and one of the funniest things I ever saw.

Tracy and her friends were on a blanket about 10 feet from where me and my mates were sitting.

This sandy coloured dog named 'Brownie' that wandered around and no one knew who owned him or if that was his real name or not walked up behind Tracy as she sat there and lifted his leg on her, on the first touch of piss on her back she reacted and shouted, "Hey!" and pushed the mutt away.

I was the only one to have seen it and just busted up laughing. I couldn't make it sound funny at the time either but it was highly amusing to me that brownie singled her out .

It was a good day, I came third in the egg and spoon race and we burned the peeler at dusk in celebration to the dark lord Xanthan. Why is it that the men leading lost tribes never ask for directions?

I'm not upset or in any way dwelling upon my defeat. To say that 10 YouTubes of TV shows etc on the winner's current blog page makes a better blog than mine in any category other than 'best use of YouTubes blog' is easy to accept, maybe the karma of oppressing paddys under British rule has caught up with me, ah well maybe they will see my genius when they learn to speak English.

I may not have won an Irish blog award but I represented the north with futile honour maybe I'll hold 'The Real Irish Blog Awards' but without all that more Irish than thou kinda attitude, if ya wear a shell suit, never sober and snort coke yer Irish enough anyway like I'd give my address to a load of IRA er I mean Irish people so they could post my ticking award to me, nice try.

I have won better, for I have won the coveted Golden Bog Award as given out by the most flushable MJ.

Look at it sparkle, bling bling plonk!

Next year Irish blog awards look out for I'll be going for a losing hat-trick, oh yeah I'm on a roll now I'm off ta take a golden crap, Mj has also promised me a golden shower.

Better than my current crapper with its 40 shades of brown and a long bloody history.

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Not A Bad Loser But Hey It Has To Be Said

I read the results of the Irish blog awards. Bearing in mind I had already put up 'Two time loser' in my sidebar under the awards link so I had no illusion my news blog would win for pop culture blog as it was not the right category for it.

I'm sure the winner of the award is very pleased, now I've heard of them. I went to their blog to find........................... short posts and a load of YouTubes. For fucks sake imagine getting awards for posting YouTubes so much for the whole quality thing.
At least last years popularity vote was more honest. Yes 20 Major did win a couple, he is the Vladimir Putin of Irish blogs.

I was shocked that Manuel didn't win for food and drink as he puts work into his blog too, he was beaten by ....................... recipes.
For fucks sake from now on its YouTubes and copy and paste for me.

I'm not worried a couple of blogs I had heard of won and unless I re-name my blog Old Bitter leprechaun I have a black mans chance of getting into the Whitehoose than winning the Irish Blogs.

Well done to some of the winners you've worked hard at the old networking next year I'd advise a better system of picking winners like casting chicken bones as it all boils doon to popularity anyway, I lost faith when Swearing Lady didn't win last year.


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Poor Veggies, Cut Doon In Their Prime

PETA the crazy hypocritical animal rights group stages a Mothers Day demonstration at Covent Garden in London.

Heres my thing, do pigs get unhappy? I've never seen an unhappy pig. I want to know just how many pigs are on anti-depressants.
I'm not talking about police officers here I mean the big dirty but tasty animals who would eat you given the chance, just ask that Canadian pig farming serial killer if ya don't believe me.

PETA are nuts and have put doon more animals than I've put doon readers to my blog which reminds me, stop reading this shit, move out of yer parents hoose and get a life people.

I moved out of the family home when I reached 50, I mean why leave when you have it so good huh? But it was cramping my style as my mum would get jealous everytime I brought a lady friend home.
One time she went into a rage and destroyed all my model aeroplanes. Its Mother's day and I'm told I have to love her today so I'll not get into the whole cutting up of my caps thing.

I don't care who you are , you shouldn't keep pregnant weemen penned up in a tiny cage like that wearing nothing but her gunties on a cold February (last Thursday) it should be a bigger cage and give the gurl a blanket or something I'm sure weemen have rights as well as animals, I'm not lawyer so look that one up yersleves.

Hey mother, fancy another? I wouldn't call her a pig she may be a crazed pregnant attention hoor but I would totally fornicate with the lass.

"Mummy why is that fat woman in a cage?" "Don't look at her dear its probably an immigrant they caught stealing or something."

Everyone is having a laugh though the two toddlers look shocked, fucking pussies get used to it ya wee shites this is Britain's future.

To make their point further the preggie lass was taken away and shot in the head with a bolt gun then hung up on a hook and gutted. Crazy bastards.

Happy Mothers Day to all you mothers and I hope all the mother fuckers appreciate yous even though you hardly ever do that thing you used to do.

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No Woman Is In Continent

Ever hear the expression 'No man is an island?' what a fucking stupid thing to say. Now I'm no expert on geographical features or Greys anatomy and I may be a bit dumb sometimes but I'm not Irish (unless during Irish blog awards, terms and conditions may apply) the island thing wouldn't work unless you had someone the size of Gulliver from Gulliver's travels assuming you were tiny but his body would hardly produce clean drinking water or a stable platform to live on and you'd have to anchor him and attach floatation devices etc. You have more chance of being a peninsula.

A lot of work. Then there is the question. Is the man island dead or alive? If alive that would be worse than water boarding which some pussies say is torture but its not if done on brown people they love it.

If dead then bodies tend to explode after a while just think if Gulliver exploded. I'm sure you can embalm a load of stiffs and lash them together but why bother? its not like you can build on them.

Island experts try to build one.

I have investigated the phrase and have found it to be quite idiotic, bodies are supposed to be weighted doon at sea not put on display. I would not like to live on an island of dead men, maybe hot dead weemen . I can plant some of my seed on that one.

The next phrase I will de-bunk will be 'Time waits for Nomads.'

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