In Dublins Fair Shitty....

I rode the big silver snake thing into town last night, the Luas it’s called, and it reaffirmed my utter hatred and contempt for people in general. It was full of them. Cunts to the right of me cunts to the left here I am stuck in the Luas with cunts. That’s how the song should go. I sat across from a heap big woman, so big in fact she had smaller women orbiting around her. She was wearing a poncho which gave her the appearance of a fat man looking out of a tent. But fair play to her she was engaged in conversation with two young mingers, munters, bints, howayas whatever you call them, cunts anyway. One of the young mingers was telling the fat tent lady all about her boyfriend. He’s homeless apparently and has two holes in his arm from jacking up gear, you can put your finger into one hole and out the other she said. Sounds lovely doesn’t it. I warmed to her straight away. Herself and her fella (that’s how she referred to him) sometimes stay in the Phoenix Park B&B and she loves the breakfast. They have napkins on the tables and everything. Junky boy doesn’t do breakfast but she never misses it. The man sleeps on the street so I reckon when he gets a bed he fuckin stays in it. She wraps up some toast and a tomato in a napkin and brings it up to him. Fat tent lady was very concerned and interested and spoke to them in a motherly fashion. I too was interested but only in the thought of them spontaneously combusting. The young minger was shovelling crisps into her to beat the band and she offered some to fat tent lady. She declined initially but I knew by the saucepan head on her that she was mad for crisps. On the second offer she accepted a bag telling the minger that she’d give them to her grandchild. Aye like fuck she would. Fat tent lady has one of those loud booming voices and I’d say every other cunt on the Luas could hear her clearly. She sings carols for the Simon Community too. When the young minger offered her another bag of crisps (she had one of those big variety packets) she accepted three of them saying she’d give them to the homeless as she shoved them into her bag. Aye like fuck she would. She didn’t get to that size from eating lettuce. As the Luas approached Heuston station the other minger, the silent one, said she felt funny. Then she grabbed the big empty crisp bag and vomited into it. If the quality of the vomit is any way proportional to the speed at which people dispersed then I’d say she was vomiting pure aids into that crisp bag. When the Luas got to Museum the two mingers disembarked leaving the bag, and subsequent puddle, of vomit behind. Fat tent lady looked disgusted, having placed some sort of faith in these mingers and treating them with respect she now realised what I had realised as soon as I saw them. They were cunts and she was a cunt for not realising it. When I got to Nealons there was a guy standing outside the door talking into his fist. I think he had a phone in it. He was telling his friend that he was getting three grams for eighty euro. His friend must have asked what he was buying and your man said critical mass. He was buying three grams of something called critical mass. It might have been cocaine or it could have been a small amount of uranium what the fuck do I know. His friend didn’t sound thrilled at the prospect but your man reassured him by telling him that that’s what the dealer was selling so that’s what he bought. I wonder if the dealer offered him three grams of botulism would he have bought that too. Jaysus this botulism is fuckin mighty me face is melting….