More on The Bono

Here's a photo of The Bono caught teasing some African kid with food. So to The Bono we say ....

Sick n Tired

I’m sick and tired of receiving e-mails telling me how small my cock is imploring me to go larger. Telling me how much happier my lady would be if my cock was that much bigger. Offering me a wonderful array of pills and lotions and creams and the fuck knows what else to be swallowed, applied, rubbed in, pumped up or otherwise administered to my deplorably small penis in order to magic it bigger. Magic it bigger. Like the gobshite kid in the fairy tale who swapped his cow for some magic beans I am bombarded with similar offers to part with my cash in order to receive some magic beans that will give me a giant cock that the ladies won’t be able to resist. Fuck off and die you moronic shower of cerebrally challenged crotch sniffers. May all your children be blind, may your cat develop leprosy, may your dog develop the clap and may your partners love hole grow several rows of teeth. Leave me the fuck alone. I’ve gotten use to my cock at the size that it is and I can magic it bigger all by myself!

I’m sick and tired of fucktards who insist on driving along side a long line of traffic, traffic which is backed up in the lane they want to be in. Fucktards who instead of joining said traffic at the back of the queue drive in my free flowing lane then stop and indicate to join the non moving lane, all in the hope of gaining a few hundred yards, a couple of car places. Fuck off and die you shite driving traffic hoping fuckpigs. May your crotch be infested by the fleas of a thousand camels and may your arms grow too short to scratch it.

May you all die roaring!!

Pope Bono n Stuff ..

In a stunning display of insanity Cardinal Ratzinger has handed over the Popeness to The Bono. In response The Bono said "yeah it's like a mole digging in a hole" or some such shite!

In other news two cunt munchers from Manchester travel all the way over to the Nurburgring in Germany in a BMW 525 only to spin out in only 7 seconds.

We can only hope that the car burst into flames very shortly afterwards.

Gobshites At Nurburgring

The Flying Spaghetti Monster

The Flying Spaghetti Monster is the deity of a parody religion founded in 2005 by Oregon State University physics graduate Bobby Henderson to protest against the decision of the Kansas State Board of education to require the teaching of intelligent design as an alternative to biological evolution. In an open letter sent to the education board, Henderson professes belief in a supernatural creator called the Flying Spaghetti Monster, which resembles spaghetti and meatballs.

He furthermore calls for the "Pastafarian" theory of creation to be taught in science classrooms, essentially invoking a reductio ad absurdum argument against the teaching of intelligent design. Followers of the Flying Spaghetti Monster (FSM) call themselves Pastafarians.

Because of its recent popularity and media exposure, the Flying Spaghetti Monster is used by atheists, such as Richard Dawkins, as a modern version of Russell's Teapot.


Russell's teapot, sometimes called the Celestial Teapot, was an analogy first coined by the philosopher Bertrand Russell, intended to refute the idea that the burden of proof lies upon the sceptic to disprove unfalsifiable claims of religions. In an article entitled “Is There A God?”, commissioned (but never published) by Illustrated magazine in 1952, Russell said the following:

“ If I were to suggest that between the Earth and Mars there is a china teapot revolving about the sun in an elliptical orbit, nobody would be able to disprove my assertion provided I were careful to add that the teapot is too small to be revealed even by our most powerful telescopes. But if I were to go on to say that, since my assertion cannot be disproved, it is intolerable presumption on the part of human reason to doubt it, I should rightly be thought to be talking nonsense. If, however, the existence of such a teapot were affirmed in ancient books, taught as the sacred truth every Sunday, and instilled into the minds of children at school, hesitation to believe in its existence would become a mark of eccentricity and entitle the doubter to the attentions of the psychiatrist in an enlightened age or of the Inquisitor in an earlier time. ”

In his book A Devils Chaplin, Richard Dawkins developed the teapot theme a little further:

“ The reason organized religion merits outright hostility is that, unlike belief in Russell's teapot, religion is powerful, influential, tax-exempt and systematically passed on to children too young to defend themselves. Children are not compelled to spend their formative years memorizing loony books about teapots. Government-subsidized schools don't exclude children whose parents prefer the wrong shape of teapot. Teapot-believers don't stone teapot-unbelievers, teapot-apostates, teapot-heretics and teapot-blasphemers to death. Mothers don't warn their sons off marrying teapot-shiksas whose parents believe in three teapots rather than one. People who put the milk in first don't kneecap those who put the tea in first."

My kind of people ....

My Karma Ran Over My Dogma ...

Checked my bank balance today to discover I was richer than I thought, by the princely sum of 33,000 Europes. My heart went all a flutter. Where did it come from, who loves me, maybe work loves me. The left side of my brain churned away trying to think of a valid source for my windfall while the right side of my brain was yelling it’s a mistake, clearly a mistake. It’s not your money. The left side was already spending it. I could get new alloys for me motor, go on a holiday, and pay off some debts, buy 3300000 penny sweets, fuck I could just blow it. But it isn't mine, it isn't mine. If I took it would that be stealing? Do I care. Maybe God cares. God what God? Nietzsche said that God was dead. He might not be dead but he's on a life support machine. What about Karma, what goes around comes around and all that bollocks. Karma got the better of me so I rang the bank knowing it was a mistake but hoping all the while that I’d be told “yes sir that money is yours, you’ve been such a valued customer and we all like the cut of your jib. So much so that we decided to give you 33,000 for no fucking reason whatsoever. Yes we are dead on.” Some dozy bint at the bank had lodged two checks against my name when they were supposed to be lodged against another guy with the same name. Who would have though there’d be two OhBeJoe’s with accounts at the same branch. All together now, cat-ma-lowdgin ……

Families Eh ...

Me poor ould Grandmother having had quiet enough living done for one life tipped her hat and bowed out last week. She was the sprightly age of 95 and although in good health right up till the end she looked every single day of her 95 years just before she died. But a stroke and two heart attacks will do that to you I suppose. Fair play to her though she lived to 95 and then went out like a rock star having a stroke whilst on the loo, Elvis hadn’t a patch on her. The funeral was a mixture of celebration and sombre reflection. Between siblings fighting and not talking and cousins riding other it was a rather curious event. She left quiet a legacy though and when the numbers were read out from the altar they generated a few gasps. She had 17 children, 48 grand children and 62 great grand children. Living to 95 after having 17 children is a feat in itself, she had her first at 16 and her last at 47, my grandfather was some boy too mind. He sired his last child at 68. Sixty fuckin eight! He couldn’t walk by all accounts but there was nothing wrong with his fishing tackle. My father use to say that when granddad had no trousers on he was in his working clothes. There was only 15 years between my grandmother and her eldest child. My aunt is now 80, the eldest of the 17 and looked more like her sister than her daughter. In more recent years my aunt would invite my grandmother to come stay in her house. But my grandmother would always refuse stating they were practically the same age and sure where was the craic in that. In a family of 17 children it must have been hard to get attention, being raised in two or three rooms in the 30’s, 40’s and 50’s life was tough, but sure they were happy, or so I’m told. Judging by the cross section of deep psychological problems I witnessed amongst the 17 I have my doubts. A finer bunch of misfit, conservative, liberal, in breeding, non breeding, alcoholic, tee totalling, chain smoking, non smoking, over eating, foul mouthed, loud talking, downright hilarious shower of cunts you’d be hard pressed to find and I’m damn proud to be part of it.

Galway First -- At It Again !

Galwayman abused Queen during naked cinema rant, court told


Galwayman had to be removed from a local cinema after he removed all his clothes and shouted abuse at Oscar-winning actress Helen Mirren as the film The Queen was being shown, a local court was told this week.Seanin Beag MacTuama, from North Connemara was charged with lewd and indecent behaviour, with indecent exposure, with breaching the peace and also became the first person since the foundation of the State to be charged with an offence under the Mirth Against The Monarch Act of 1637.Sergeant Gerry Sexton told the court that he and a colleague were called to the city cinema after reports of the disturbance last week.“The gentleman was sitting at the front of the cinema and was laughing to himself. Eveytime, Ms Mirren appeared on the screen, he kept saying ‘Jaysus, she’s gorgeous. I would ya know, would you.’The court heard that Mac Tuama, who is unemployed and in receipt of benefit continuously laughed throughout the more sombre bits of the movie.Witnesses said that during the scene in the movie when news of Diana’s death was being broken to princes William and Harry, MacTuama stood up and said “I bet they’ll say ‘Dad, who’s taking the hearse to France’ — a reference to a famous Irish Kerrygold butter TV ad in which a character says “Dad, who’s taking the horse to France.”“This upset many people who were there and who were fond of Diana,” said Sgt Sexton, adding that he wasn’t bothered either way by it, but that his wife would be “into that sort of thing.’Solicitor for Mr MacTuama, Ciaran Tuohy said that his client claimed he was a direct descendant of the medieval Irish sea queen Grace O’Malley aka Granuaile and therefore had “an issue” with Queen Elizabeth the First and consequently Helen Mirren who played QE1 in a BBC programme.He said that he had become confused when Mirren appeared on screen as Queen Elizabeth the Second and it was at this stage that he ranted that he was ‘the victim of a Royalist plot.’He later removed all his clothes and danced a reel in the aisle of the cinema.He was fined €150 for indecent exposure, €150 for lewd and indecent behaviour and half a crown for the offence under the Mirth Against The Monarch Act.

Half Man Half Hobbit

My Grandmother, God bless her cotton socks, turned 90 at the weekend and what a session that turned into, she’s an absolute whore for the vodka and redbull. It was my mother’s mother so all the Proudfoot clan were there in force. There hadn’t been that many Proudfoot’s in the same place together since Bilbo Baggins’s going away do. It was like a hobbit convention, short arses and hairy feet everywhere. In typical old Irish fashion the session started off with a quick bit of mass. Lord forgive us for the sins we are about to commit. The priest, it has to be said, was none too pleased to find none of the extended Proudfoot clan was willing to serve mass for him. My brother reckoned he was just looking for the rub and I had to agree. It was my understanding that the mass was to be a celebration of my Grandmothers life instead it turned into a litany of all who were dead belonging to her. With a smile on his face like a dog with two cocks, the priest read out, in chronological order, those closest to my Grandmother who have beaten her to the grave. It included her husband, her daughter, her own parents, her sisters and brothers, granddaughters and grandsons. It was a real case of ‘happy birthday Eileen now here’s a list of all your dead’. Things cheered up considerably once the mass was over, and we gave her 90 bumps, Jaysus I’d say she’s not the better of it yet. Up with the body, down with the tits, up with the tits and down with the body.

Like the happiest funereal procession ever witnessed we retired to a hotel for some food and a bit of a shindig, screaming she’s not dead at all she’s not dead at all, she was only asleep, praise the Lord, Allah, and anyone else you can think of. The photographs took the fuckin’ biscuit though. My Grandmother was put sitting in the middle of the room while a veritable throng of people milled about her taking her picture, as though she was some exhibition in a museum, hey look at the freak that lived to 90, quick take her picture before she dies. I was waiting for a bus load of Japanese tourists to file past snapping everything in sight. Not satisfied with photographs of the good lady herself the throng circled the room taking random photographs of all and sundry. Starting with the older generations first. I can see the exhibition now ‘and here is a pictorial presentation of the soon to be dead’. When everyone was sufficiently photographed or the film ran out the pictures eventually stopped. The grub was had, more drink was had and Grandmother left us to it. She had mass to attend to that evening. She’s 90 you know so I figure the thinking at that age revolves around making peace with him upstairs, and two masses a day can’t hurt eh.

The Proudfoot clan drank on into the wee small hours, left the hotel and ended up in Nober, with all the Noberiginies. The craic was had, the people did rejoice, the Lord did grin, and there was much merriment and feasting off the land. I awoke the following morning with an Arran jumper on my tongue. Half man, half hobbit.

Mad As A Box Of Frogs.

And I quote ...

Canadian film director, James Cameron must really believe that he is "the king of the world."After all, he has claimed all-knowledge to himself that the latest archaeological ossuaries contain the bones of Jesus of Nazareth, his mother Mary, Mary Magdalene and Judah, son of Jesus. Let's put him right up there with the DaVinci Code writer Dan Brown and the movie of the same name's director the much disappointing Ron Howard. Here are four people performing the will (though they many not know it or believe it) of the Antichrist!

For to deny Jesus is to side with the evil one.How typical! It must be another Christian liturgical season, this time Lent. The media moguls bring out the usual anti-Christian or anti-Catholic stories in an attempt to discredit our faith.Expect something new or re-hashed about nine months from now in Advent 2007.

There are no bones of Jesus of Nazareth, the Christ. For He is not dead!
He rose from death and He ascended bodily to heaven. Yes, this is an article of my faith, etched into my heart and countless millions of others'.
But it is more. It is fact!

Check out Vox Cantor. Either their crazier than shithouse rats or I'm going straight to hell.

http://voxcantor.blogspot.com/

P Diddy Name Change - Again.

A BRITISH DJ has forced Sean Combs to change the name he calls himself in a song. The English High Court ordered Mr Combs yesterday to drop a lyric in which he calls himself 'Diddy' when he performs at Wembley Arena next month.

The megastar suffered defeat at the hands of club DJ Richard 'Diddy' Dearlove, who established previous ownership rights over the alias.

Combs should just cut to the chase and change his name to Cunt, sure it's what people have being calling him for years.