Orange Cunts.

What’s the fucking point of an orange? I fucking hate oranges. It’s like wrapping Kevlar around a soft shite. What’s so fucking extraordinary about a bastard orange that it has to have a flak jacket anyway? Look at peaches, peaches are soft and easily bruised and exceptionally easy to eat. No helmets, no Kevlar, just a big fuck off nut in the centre and instantly ready to savour. But not oranges, oh no, you have to wrestle with the fucker. Scratch at it with your fingernails, squirting citrus acidic muck into your eye and all over the shop. Then when you finally get purchase on the skin and have it half way off the thing starts to fall apart and there’s shit and snot everywhere. You have orange finger nails, the sticky juice has ruined your hands and run half way up your arm and the good is completely gone out of it. They have pips too, imagine the absolute nerve of the bastards to have a Kevlar coat and then pips to boot, the pompous awkward little cunts. I should have bought an apple.

Max hand me a napkin I'm dying over here ....

MoreShiteThanYouCanShakeaBigAshPlantAt

Well it was dark when I woke up and I lay there with me arse hole cocked up in the air like a dead cow, I had a bedamndable pain in me stomach and it felt like I had a four stone bag of half eaten rotten supds stuck up inside me. I stumbled through the dark like Phil MacMucksavage stumbles through a sentence, I was looking for something to eat and I found a bag of big green and blue things that were all covered in pock marks. So after eatin all that was in the bag I opened me eyes and bejaysus it was birght. Right says I enough of the messin, I put on me best pair of Billy Dolans y-fronts and headed for Bakers. Now these y-fronts were not very fashionable but christ were they comfortable, they had a lovely long stain of Jisim down the front which was obviously a result of a good night Billy had spent with the SugerBills from BrokeHill. On the back I was sporting a fine collection of small holes which can only have appeared after fifteen years of wear & tear while drinking ten gallons of white spirits and milk, now if that won't make ya piss napalm and shite nails nothin will. Anyway on me way into town I meet the one and only Clogger Malone, he was sittin in the back yard with his lad in his hand beatin off the side of Phils car. "Bejaysus howya gon on" said I, the reply was very abrupt and as mad as a small to medium sized bucket of dogs mickies, "Go way or I'll beat the face of ya with the end me tool ya feckless rouge". "Right" says I "no pints for you then Cloggy", "Ahh bejaysus hould on" says he "I'm sorry". So meself and the bould Colggy Malone got his ould one to drive us into town in that clapped out banger she has the nerve to call a car. Now ould Malone is no F1 driver, jaysus I never even knew you could get to Bakers through the fields but christ when we came round the corner at the back of the mill I nearly ruined me best pair of Billy Dolans y-fronts. You should have seen her, she had her face squashed up against the windscreen, the feckin accelerator floored in second gear and the whole lot been done with the hand break on. Well I grabbed Cloggy by the two ears for safety and held on for dear life, and it wasn't until we stopped or should I say landed at Bakers that I realised why we were in second gear the whole time. Jaysus sure didn't oul Malone have the gear stick stuck to the hilt in her ould scabby guther and her moaning for Vincy Buntty the whole time. Into Bakers we went, I being as intelligent as I am bought the first round ... " Hows that carabunkle you have on your left testicle Baker" says I ... "Gout" says he "ya had your chance " ... so we went to the White Star ... And thats a story for another day ...

God Sued In Nebraska

From Sky News

God has apparently replied to a terror lawsuit against him in the States - by claiming he is immune to Earth's laws. A lawyer in Omaha, Nebraska, has filed an injunction against the supreme being - claiming he has made terrorist threats against him and his constituents. Ernie Chambers, a prominent civil rights leader and a member of the state legislature, claimed the Almighty had inspired fear and caused "widespread death, destruction and terrorisation of millions upon millions of the Earth's inhabitants". The self-proclaimed agnostic is seeking a permanent injunction against God. But now it seems the creator has responded to the lawsuit after a file apparently dropped in from the heavens. "This one miraculously appeared on the counter. It just all of a sudden was here, poof!" said John Friend, clerk of the Douglas County District Court in Omaha. Signed by "God" the response argues that the defendant is immune from our planet's laws and that the US court lacks jurisdiction over God. Blaming the Almighty for human oppression and suffering misses an important point, it says. "I created man and woman with free will and next to the promise of immortal life, free will is my greatest gift to you," claims the response. St Michael the Archangel is listed as a witness, Mr Friend noted.

A case is also being put together by Ernie crazier-than-a-shithouse-rat Chambers to sue Santa for stress caused by not bringing the fucking bike he asked for when he was six. The Tooth Fairy and the Easter Bunny are said to have gone into hiding as romours abound that Mr. Chambers has been less than impressed by their respective performances over the years. 'The Easter Bunny is a jummped up fuckpig' said Mr. Chambers 'and as for that cuntbubble the Tooth Fairy I estimate I'm owed somewhere in the region of one and a half million dollars what with interest, inflation and what not after I knocked all my teeth out with a lump hammer to try and help pay my way through college.'

Clearly there is a village somehwere being deprived of an idiot!

In other news check this guy out .....

Julien Dupont Stunt Rider

Support The Troops

Some sound advice on supporting troops!

Supporting The Troops # 1

Supporting The Troops # 2

Tough Being Irish

Sometimes it's tough being Irish. We have a shite soccer team who couldn't kick doors on a Halloween night. We have a shite manager who would be out of his depth in a car park puddle and the whole shitting shooting gallery being lorded over by a punctured faced cunt with a head like a burst colon. Will we never learn?

On top of the soccer woes our much lauded and talked up rugby team struggled to beat two of the lesser rugby nations, though you wouldn't think them lesser on our performance. I've applied more pressure passing wind than our players managed in two games. Where is the pride and passion that was talked about? Maybe the poor lads can’t breathe in those S&M jerseys they now have to wear. The Bull John Hayes must be fucking wrecked after getting poured into his. It must take a half an acre of cloth to cover his vast bulk. Whatever the reasons or excuses, and there have been plenty of both, our lads need to cop themselves on and get a good dose of wake the fuck up if they intend beating France. I hate losing to France, the dirty talking frog eating surrender monkeys; it’s almost as bad as losing to England, almost now I did say almost.

Would You Get This Cab? Taken On Dawson Street.

ArseBook

Like FaceBook only for cunts you don't like.

Arsebook is an anti-social utility that connects you with the people YOU HATE.

Go ahead and sign up.

Arse Book

Black Cunt Calls White Uber Cunt A Fat White Bastard

Chris Tryhorn
Monday September 10, 2007
MediaGuardian.co.uk

ITV has been cleared of racism by TV watchdog Ofcom after Sir Trevor McDonald (the cunt) called the late controversial comic Bernard Manning (uber cunt) a "fat, white bastard".

A total of 112 viewers complained that the remark, made on Sir Trevor's ITV1 Sunday night news comedy programme News Knight the week Manning died, was inappropriate or racist.

But Ofcom said Sir Trevor "clearly intended to parody" Manning's own brand of comedy, which played on racial stereotypes and was often denounced as racist.

The regulator cleared ITV of breaching broadcasting guidelines, ruling that "any offence that may have been caused was justified by the context".

During the June 24 edition of News Knight, less than a week after Manning's death aged 76, Sir Trevor introduced an item as "Racist and Dead".

"This week, it's the turn of corpulent, narrow-minded northerner Bernard Manning," he said. "Personally, I never thought of Bernard Manning as a racist comic... just a fat, white bastard...".

"The comments were clearly intended to parody Manning's own comedy, where he claimed he was not himself racist, but simply made 'jokes' based on racial stereotypes," Ofcom said.


News On Other Fat Bastards


In the US plans have been unveiled to update the Statue of Liberty and bring it into the 21st century. A spokesman for the local borough council has stated that for too long the statue has been a relic of the past, “for too ling the statue has been a relic of the past”, he said. “It’s about time she got a makeover or a face lift. Americans can no longer relate to the image she portrays and we are hoping the new image will be more in keeping with current US values”.

He could be onto something here.

Correspondance With The Penguins ....

My fellow penguins,

We stand upon a great threshold! It’s perfectly okay to be frightened; most of you won’t be coming back. But, thanks to the success of the Batman movies, the time has come to punish all humans! Not just the first born either, second, third and fourth born too. Why be biased? Male and female! The sexes are equal so let’s treat them as such. Blow them all sky high! Forward march! The liberation of the penguin nation has begun!

The Penguins.


My dear penguins,

We have, through our contacts in the penguin underworld, intercepted the aforementioned letter. It would seem clear to us that you and yours intend to cause harm to the people in general. Please note that you are a penguin and as such are rather restricted in movement and let’s be honest a bit on the short side too. Being the benevolent species that we are it has been decided to let your initial threats slide for now. Please bear in mind however that if your threats continue or if indeed you attempt to follow through on said threats we the people shall be left with no alternative than to use all the force at our disposal. Now waddle along there and go warm an egg.

The People.


Dear People,

We scoff at your ignorance. Small and restricted in movement we may be but underestimate us at your peril. We were chilling out and knocking back cold ones in the Antarctic while your ape like ancestors were still sucking their mother’s tit and picking fleas from their asses. Through no fault of ours the ice caps are melting and our habitat has come under direct threat. We the penguins view this as an act of war and as such have declared war on you the people. Lets be honest here it isn’t our SUV’s that are causing the damage now is it.

The Penguins.


Dear Penguins,

Don’t make us open a can of whoop ass on you!

The People.


Dear People,

Don’t make us get the polar bears involved!

The Penguins.

Pie Bald Paddy

Pie Bald Paddy they came to call him which was a real stroke of genius seeing as it was his name. He’s a traveller by trade having spent many a long year studying maps and atlases and globes. Eventually he graduated and was given a bus pass but soon he had acquired enough money to buy his own set of wheels. Well he bought an ould van and the wheels he stole. But it was an expected surprise to everyone when they heard who it was and I’m sure I suppose no more of a surprise to anyone more than those who were surprised the most. Pie Bald Paddy was an existential traveller vigilante, travelling from halting site to halting site fighting crimes such as horse thieving, inter family feuding, inter family fornication, rationalism and positivism. There wasn’t many who could best him at the slash hook or the pick axe handle. He was a familiar figure of that there’s little doubt both loved and loathed in equal measure. His bruised and battered van a frequent fixture at irregular intervals on the flat barren undulating countryside here in the city, and if it wasn’t for his regular visits to the halting site sure nobody would have seen him at all. I’d almost nearly never see him only when he’d call over on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays to fix a saucepan or steal a gate or fix a gate and steal a saucepan or sometimes both and sometimes neither. Sometimes he wouldn’t come over at all and other times he’d be here all along. Sure you couldn’t be up to him he was an awful character and full of beans. Jaysus the smell out of him at times would kill a horse, at other times the horse wouldn’t notice it at all, but he could shite for Ireland, your man now, not the horse. I one time hear tell of a tale of a lad of the size of your man who ate a horrid feed of beans and they had to get the fire brigade out to get him down of a pile of shite that he let rip out of his hole. He had only intended to fart but the clutch slipped and before he knew it he couldn’t get stopped. The chief inspector with the fire brigade said that if it wasn’t for the saving grace of having some bad stitching in the seat of his pants he’d likely have backed up and most probably exploded and killed all in the place. Or maybe not all in the place but some, and likely most, or if not exploded he would most certainly have bloated and farted and most likely have killed the horse or at the very least he’d have creased his shirt and embarrassed the animal. Well he came round the corner like a whore on wheels grabbed me by the scruff of the ankles and demanded to know why I didn’t think human beings created the meaning of their own destinies. I have to admit at the time I was in a bit of a pickle and emitted a small noise of the very sort a dolphin makes when it’s been caught committing adultery. I figured there was little point in arguing and stated my case that although I may have stood accused of being a logical positivist I saw myself more as somewhere between an apathetic agnostic and an agnostic atheist. He dropped me, jumped into his van and fled. It was a close one.

Max pull over the gate before the fucker comes back ....

Damn Cyclists....

God damn and blast to all fuckers on bikes. Twice this week I’ve been forced to drive at ten miles an hour because the dozy bint in the car in front refused to overtake a cyclist. Yes it may be a narrow road and yes there may be cars coming in the opposite direction but if you are so lacking in spatial awareness not to realise you could safely navigate the cyclist then you shouldn’t be driving a car. As for the fuckers on bikes, if you want to be green then cross the fucking fields. Then over the wireless a sultry voiced woman said "as Christmas is just around the corner isn’t it time you started thinking about…" I said NO. I wanted to rip the radio out of the dashboard and roar fuck you and the horse you rode in on into it. Christmas my hole I’m still waiting for summer. I got chatting at a tourist the other day and he asked me in all seriousness when summer was in Ireland, I said it’s hard to tell, last year it was a Wednesday. There is a grand smell of slurry in the air here today. It's the kind of smell that makes your toes curl and burns all the hair out of your nostrils. It reminds me of my childhood when my father use to make us shite into buckets and then spread them across his vegetable patch. Organic he called it. I've never been able to look a carrot in the face since...

Max close the porthole there's an awful smell of shite ...

Fancy A Drink ...

A recent magazine survey, interviewed fifty bartenders and they were asked if they could identify a customer's personality on what drinks they ordered? Although interviewed separately, they concurred on almost all counts.

The results:


--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
IF WOMEN DRINK THESE DRINKS IN A PUB (not at home).

BEER
Personality: Casual, low maintenance; down to earth.
Approach: Challenge her to a game of pool.

COCKTAILS OR BLENDER DRINKS WITH UMBRELLA
Personality: Flaky, annoying, dizzy, and a pain in the ass.
Approach: Avoid her, unless you want to be her cabin boy.

MIXED DRINKS - NO UMBRELLAS E.G.; GIN AND TONIC / SCOTCH AND SODA
Personality: Mature, has picky taste; knows what she wants
Approach: If she wants you, she'll send YOU a drink.

WATER
Personality: Pretentious and is looking for a serious relationship.
Approach: Don't.

WINE - (BOTTLED, NOT 4 LITRE CASK)
Personality: Conservative and classy, sophisticated.
Approach: Try and weave Paris and clothing into the conversation.

BACARDI BREEZER, RED SQUARE, ARCHERS COOLER, SMIRNOFF ICE, MUDSHAKE ETC.
Personality: Easy; thinks she is trendy and sophisticated actually has no clue.
Approach: Make her feel smarter than she is... and you're in.

SPIRITS SUCH AS CC, WILD TURKEY, SOUTHERN COMFORT

Personality: Watch out, they are unique! A real mixture of personalities. Love to be laid!
Approach: Talk dirty to them whilst challenging them intellectually - you're in!

CAPE VELVET
Personality: Annoying voice, bit of a tart.
Approach: Stand close and mention the alley next to the pub.

SHOTS AND SLAMMERS (TEQUILA, VODKA, COWBOYS, AFTERSHOCK ETC.)
Personality: Hangs around with male work pals or looking to get drunk.
Approach: Easiest hit in the pub, nothing to do but wait...

SPIRITS SUCH AS JACKS, BEAM & BUNDY
Personality: Enjoys male company more than females, loves to party hard
Approach: Keep buying them drinks, they'll think you're a nice bloke and they are probably trying to work out how to get you to bed!



--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
IF MEN DRINK in a PUB (as always, very simple and clear cut).

CIDER
He's probably under-aged and wants to get laid.

CHEAP DOMESTIC BEER
He's poor / student and wants to get laid.

CASTLE LAGER BEER
He likes good beer and wants to get laid.

IMPORTED BEER
He's old; he likes good beer and wants to get laid.

GUINNESS
The man is a rapist and will get laid one way or another.

WATER
He just threw up and is trying to wash the taste out of his mouth so that he can still get laid

WINE
He's hoping that the wine thing will give him a sophisticated image and help him get laid.

VODKA OR BRANDY
Extremely horny hound, would shag a warm scarf. Desperate to get laid.

PORT
Thinks he's sophisticated, secretly likes men and wants to get laid.

WHISKY/JACK DANIELS
He doesn't give two $hits about anything and will hit anyone who will get in his way of getting laid.

JIM BEAM
Not as masculine as the whisky drinker, knows all about feminine activities (knitting, crochet etc.) to weasel himself into getting laid.

RUM OR TEQUILA
Likes fighting almost as much as getting laid.

BACARDI BREEZER, RED SQUARE, ARCHERS COOLER, SMIRNOFF ICE, ETC
He's gay (blatantly) - don't turn your back or pick up any dropped change.


REMEMBER DON'T DRINK AND DRIVE ....